Crossing Paths
by wewillwalk
Summary: After unexpected events during Senior year, even Rachel's best-laid plans weren't good enough any more. See what happens when she turns around to start a new life in Chicago and encounters the only person she thought she'd never see again.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So for anyone who has read my other stories, Brittany/Santana is my usual deal, it's familiar territory. This is my first shot at Rachel/Quinn. It's going to be multi-chapter, and the chapters will probably be this length or more. So far I've written three of them. The title I'm using isn't incredibly original. Deal with it, yo.

In this story, everyone in the New Directions will be mentioned, and for the sake of the story let's all just pretend they graduated at the same time. Also disregard the entirety of 3x14 because I started this like a month ago and I'm not changing it to fit _that_ insanity.

**Summary: **After unexpected events during Senior year, even Rachel's best-laid plans weren't good enough any more. See what happens when she turns around to start a new life in Chicago. (I honestly can't believe you still clicked on this after reading that. It's lame.)

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Curry and Surprise Encounters<strong>

The rain beat down on the trash-littered bricks. It was no new sight to Rachel as it had been raining all of October in the city. At her feet, wrappers and old bits of newspaper were quickly becoming sodden on the ground. People rushed by carrying black and white plastic bags, the kinds with the smiley faces on them that thanked her for shopping. On her right, doors to shops and restaurants opened up, strong smells wafting out with departing customers. The glass display windows held vast arrays of colorfully dressed mannequins in exquisite jewelry (some real, some plastic, she still appreciated the ornate quality).

To her left cars drove by on the road, beeping loudly in the downpour. Every person she encountered looked different, unique, like they had a story of their own. There were people of all races, ethnicities, backgrounds. This is what Rachel loved about Devon Avenue, about Chicago, it was all so...human. Sure, she had always hoped for New York. The sparkling lights of Broadway had been enticing; the giant ads in Times Square thrilling, but Rachel Berry fell in love with the Windy City from the start. She had walked Michigan Avenue, watched the summer fireworks at Navy Pier, and explored the sometimes eye-opening shops on Belmont.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted the lettering she had been looking for, the sticker on the door showed crossed carrots. Opening the outer door and pausing to shake some of the rain from her bright pink and white polka-dotted rain jacket (it was too cute to leave in Lima), she stepped through the inner door and into the warmth and dim light of the small restaurant. It was another thing she loved about Devon, the first restaurant she had ever stumbled into on the avenue was all-vegetarian, like a dream come true. Sure, she was alone, but there was nothing like a hot cup of tea and a steaming masala dosa.

The old waiter greeted her happily in an accent she had difficulty understanding (it was much stronger than Principle Figgins') and seated her immediately. She chose the seat facing the window opting to watch the street outside. Rainy weather always felt more...dramatic, and dramatic was the story of her life. She sighed happily and ordered her food from the attentive waiter as he filled her water glass from a beat-up metal pitcher, stray droplets dripping from the bottom.

Delicious scents were making their way into the dining area from the kitchen behind her and she could hear the clink of forks scraping plates and the soft thud of glasses being set on cloth-covered tables. The buzz of chatter from other diners put Rachel at ease, she always liked for there to be background noise, and sure, idle chatter wasn't the same as Barbra, but it was music to her ears.

Rachel was...alone, single, in a large city. It was well known to everyone back at McKinley (she had liked to think that their relationship was the highlight of WMHS gossip) that Finn had ended it with her, and very unfairly if she did say so herself (and she did, often, reminding everyone of it).

He had been so devastated after losing the football scholarship that when Cooter re-approached him, he couldn't bring himself to decline. Rachel had of course responded to the news by singing about it as it was the only thing she could think of to do at the time. With the promise of playing quarterback at Ohio State, Finn had become unrecognizable in her eyes. She couldn't believe some of the things he said when his confidence had soared and he turned nasty. Sure, she knew a thing or two about over-confidence, but it was part of her business and as far as she knew she had never let it hurt the ones she loved. Well, at least not _too_ much.

Rachel had always believed in telling the truth, honesty was the best policy and well, she was the best so it only made sense that she adopt that policy. When she had admitted to Finn one day that she was upset that he would not be joining her in a large theatre city, her eyes downcast dramatically, a small tear on her left cheek, he had simply scoffed.

He told her that her dreams were no longer as big as his, and it had terrified her. She always saw Finn as someone who looked out for others and sacrificed for their happiness but that Finn had left as soon as he signed the documents from the recruiter.

He broke up with her a day later, devastating her. She had locked herself in her room and not even Kurt had been able to coax her out with the suggestion of Karaoke-night at the senior center (she looked forward to it every month). Now, months later, she was finally on her way to recovering. Getting dumped by Finn had made her realize that she had been depending on him for too long. She wanted to become _independent_, deciding that it would help her eventually when it came to her career.

Sure, convincing her dads had been a little difficult but she had put together a brilliant PowerPoint presentation as well as a small play, and they had eventually folded. She was eighteen, and very capable of living by herself. Her dads had been weary at first, but they had agreed to let her get a tiny apartment in Andersonville (it was_ slightly_ safe) as long as she promised to call twice a day.

The move had gone relatively smoothly considering that it involved a seven hour road-trip with a massive U-HAUL truck. That was another thing Rachel appreciated about Chicago, the easy access to public transportation allowed her to avoid driving at all costs. She had a small car because her dads had refused to let her go without it (they insisted the CTA could only get her _so_ far, she disagreed because it cramped her diva style). She hadn't had her big break yet, not even a small one, but she was hopeful and spent weekdays trolling the streets for auditioning opportunities.

Rachel auditioned for everything, from big-time musicals to tiny plays in back-alley theaters; she was hungry for roles, no matter how juicy. So far, she had only managed to score one, a lead role in a dinner theater production, but it had only run through June and July and she had struck out ever since. After many shed tears, she had come to brush rejections off. She liked to think she had changed in the past few months since high school, since Finn, and since Nationals (oh yes, they had won, she was brilliant, everyone else was also quite good).

It had been a few long months of adjusting, but Rachel felt settled, grounded. Sitting there in the restaurant on that Saturday afternoon, reflecting on how she had managed to make her way there, she was happy with her life, happy with who she was. The waiter returned with her tea, followed shortly by her food, and she dug in, relishing in the perfectly blended spices and ingredients.

She was just beginning to try the different sauces that sat in little metal dishes around her plate when she happened to glance up and something out of the slightly-fogged window caught her eye. It was a flash of yellow, a rain jacket and short, blonde hair. She almost laughed at herself as a familiar character from her high school days popped into her mind, the thought was ridiculous.

She decided that maybe she was just a little lonely, particularly if she was picturing old...could she call them _frenemies_? They had never really been friends...it was beside the point, she needed to Skype Kurt and listen to him gush about the Big Apple. In fact, she missed the whole club, even the rude ones. She had started the summer with weekly mass e-mails updating them all on her life, but after a couple of rude replies (she preferred not to name names but, duh, Santana) she had limited them to monthly little blurbs asking everyone how they were.

Still, there was only one person she knew with hair like that, only one person that could pull off a yellow raincoat (Santana would have argued of course that Brittany was capable, but everyone, even Lopez, knew blue was her color). But there was no way, no way that it could have been _that_ blonde. She craned her neck with an eager smile on her face, hoping to maybe catch a flash of hazel eyes or the hem of a sun-dress (it would have poetically ironic when paired with the rain) but she had no such luck. The girl had been one of the few that had never replied to her e-mails.

They may have almost never gotten along, but even Rachel had been a little concerned when Quinn Fabray had dropped off the face of the earth post-graduation. It wasn't like they hadn't all seen it coming, the girl was obviously thirsty for something, anything that wasn't Lima, perhaps even more so than Rachel herself.

Puck and Sam had gone to look for her for a few days but had eventually given up. Mercedes had yelled at everyone and told them to lay off her, and Rachel had to agree. Her outlook on life had changed and she too wanted to start fresh in a new city, more than ever before.

She settled back down into her chair and eyed the sauces again, hoping that Quinn had found her niche. The rest of the New Directions seemed happy, as far as she knew. Sam was at Stanford playing football, she was incredibly proud of him for getting in to such a good school and the athletic scholarship meant that his parents didn't have to worry about the money.

Artie and Mercedes had both ended up in Nashville studying music. She was an aspiring singer while he really wanted to be a producer. Rachel could see both of them being very successful in ten years.

It was slightly ironic that the majority of the club had re-located to New York while she had opted to head for the Midwest. They had even managed to end up in some of the same schools. Blaine and Santana were at NYU, an impressive feat. Kurt, of course, and gone ahead with NYADA and was happily settled in. Brittany and Mike had ended up at Julliard, and Rachel was glad because she had always found their talents under-appreciated, even if they were lesser than her own when it came to the musical aspect of performing. Tina was at some obscure design school re-inventing Asian fashion one outfit at a time (a dream she had expressed often during their senior year). After she and Finn had ended it, those three power couples became the spotlight, and Rachel was eagerly awaiting the wedding invitations.

Deciding that she preferred the green sauce to the red, Rachel finished her food slowly, savoring the intense flavor that her cooking had not yet been able to render in her own kitchen (she had purchased multiple ethnic cookbooks upon moving in), and making mental notes of what to look for next time she was at the store. She heard the bells on the door jingling slightly over the noise of the chatter and she glanced up. For the second time that afternoon, Rachel Berry saw yellow and thought of Quinn Fabray, only this time, the girl stood there in the flesh, a little damp, and so far ignorant of her presence.

A million questions ran through her head. What _was she doing here? When had she arrived? Was it really even Quinn or was her silly, lonely mind playing tricks on her? Had she sunk so low that she was at the point of fantasizing about running into old enemies simply from lack of familiar human contact?_ Surely not. She immediately slipped back into high school mode, slumping down slightly in her chair and brushing her bangs into her eyes. She had abandoned wearing headbands after the breakup, the memory of her original songwriting hurting just a little too much. She was half-way to hiding under the table, earning her a funny look from the waiter who filled her water ever-faithfully, and Quinn had still not noticed her.

After a few moments of careful, discreet observation she became sure that it was in fact Quinn despite some obvious changes that the girl had gone through. Her hair, which had grown out slightly by the end of the year was now trimmed (artfully of course) back to the length it had been last September. Under the yellow jacket, there was no sign of Old Quinn, no sun dress and cute shoes (they _had_ had similar taste back in the day, although nobody ever seemed to notice).

Instead, she wore what looked like a loose-fitting floral print tank paired with some rolled (and incredibly tight) blue jeans and simple grey flats. Slung over her back was what looked to be a water-proof case of some sorts, and Rachel noted its practicality when concerning the current weather. While she was shocked to see Quinn was in the city that _she_ had just begun to call home, she was at the same time intrigued.

If the ex-cheerleader hadn't found her niche here, Rachel didn't know what else to think. She looked so incredibly...at ease. Her face was free of that pinched sour look she bore throughout high school, and her outfit showed that she was obviously through trying to please Judy. Rachel realized that she was staring, and quickly cast her eyes back down to her food.

Just as she was picking up her fork to push the remainder of her food around, she heard a small _gasp_ and knew that it was Quinn. She kept her head down for a moment, her mind reeling for something to say, but she gathered from the gasp that the blonde girl was in a similar state. Deciding to put her well-honed acting skills to good use, she pulled her head up and feigned surprise.

"Quinn?" _Yes, her talents seemed to remain on-par as ever._

"R-Rachel!" The other girl was standing a few feet away from her table now, hands clutched in front of her. She looked almost...shy.

A few of the other customers in the place had noticed the exchange and were throwing curious glances in their direction. Quinn looked shocked, like she had seen a ghost, and Rachel could feel a slight heat creep over her cheeks like it had back at McKinley. She had always been nervous around the popular girl, even when they had shared the occasional civil conversation during senior year. Ever since they had first been forced to spend time together during sophomore year the imposing blonde had held a grudge. They had stolen boyfriends, cheated with the same guy, and called each other out multiple times each year.

Rachel's natural competitive attitude kicked in and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that it was _her_ who had managed to find Quinn first out of everybody else. She hadn't even really tried but here the girl was standing before her in a small vegetarian restaurant on a rainy day in Chicago looking like she'd just been kicked in the stomach.

She felt a little awkward, but gestured at Quinn to sit down with her. The blonde girl looked around the place a couple of times and as if she had realized she had nothing to lose, no reputation to uphold, she carefully peeled off her jacket and sat down opposite Rachel.

What happened next wasn't exactly what Rachel had expected, but it didn't surprise her at all. Brown eyes locked with hazel and the chatter around them became almost deafening. They said nothing for what seemed like several minutes as Quinn tried to silently assert herself with the same steady gaze she had used back in high school.

But she had changed, and Rachel had too. Roles reversed as the brown eyes stayed locked on target, yet Quinn's gaze faltered ever-so-slightly, her hazel orbs slipping to the table cloth a couple of times. Rachel took it as a silent victory before she realized how big of a deal it really was. She had seen the backpack (the girl had managed without one for years of high school), the change in clothes, even her hair held no pins or clips, just naturally framing her face. She looked like a cross between HBIC cheerleader Quinn and Rebel Quinn, but without the fierceness. The girl who sat before her had resigned.

"You're finally happy, aren't you?" Rachel didn't know why she'd asked it, but she couldn't help herself. It just seemed...appropriate.

"I am, I finally am." Quinn allowed herself the first genuine smile that Rachel had seen her flash since they had won nationals. Even at graduation it had seemed forced, like she was at one of her mother's parties and was still trying to please everyone even at the moment she was finally escaping high school, an era that had been hell for all of them. If there was anyone who could understand the feeling of freedom and contentment that came from escaping the suffocating halls of McKinley and the never-ending drudgery of Lima, it was Rachel Berry.

"That's good, Quinn. We were all so worried about you, you didn't show up to the party at Kurt's and Puck and Sam couldn't find you." Quinn's lips twisted into a pained expression at Rachel's words. She shifted in her seat and stayed silent for a while before finally replying.

"Honestly, I didn't want to be found. After graduation my mother tried to take me out to dinner but I was just...done, you know? I was going to drive back to my place, empty my closet, and get the hell out of there. The boys almost found me. They showed up at the house right when I was packing the last suitcase, so I just left without my stuff."

That was something Rachel could believe. All three of the ex-cheerios she knew were excellent at sneaking out of places. Brittany had once tried to teach her the fine art but she was much better at doing than teaching and it had ended badly with the small brunette nearly falling out of a tree. Rachel couldn't understand why Quinn would leave without her clothes, though. She had always been so well put-together and the thought of a reckless Quinn brought her back to the one she had known September of 2011, but there was almost no sign of that Quinn in the girl she saw now.

Instead of crazy and unstable she looked calm and cultured, like she had discovered many things over the past few months. Rachel wondered what it was that had allowed her to change so much, what eye-opening experiences she had had. Of course, everyone they knew had changed some. As far as she knew from Kurt's phone calls, Brittany had grown up quite a bit and was apparently becoming studious while Santana had managed to turn into slightly less of a bitch (something Rachel found hard to believe). Blaine had ditched the bow-ties, cardigans, and hair gel, growing his curls out a little and looking like a true college student (something Kurt resented greatly). Even Tina and Mike could be spotted doing things that were far from synchronized and Asian. She imagined the many things that Quinn could have done with her past few months, and another question flowed easily to her lips.

"Where'd you go, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Here. I went straight here and I've been here ever since. And I never want to go back."

Rachel was shocked. She had coined Quinn for one of those types that would take a road trip or something adventurous, just travel around.

"Why? Why would you choose to live in Chicago of all places? I always saw you somewhere more...glamorous." It was true, Quinn could have been a movie star in no time with those looks and her old manipulating ways, the acting skills she had honed were incredible, though not as proficient and Rachel's own.

"I didn't choose Chicago because I don't live in the city. I chose Northwestern, well, it sometimes feels like it chose me."

Rachel's jaw dropped. She knew Quinn was clever but she had never talked about academic ability or what colleges she had applied to. Rachel had been so focused on NYADA that she had mostly ignored her friend's aspirations for the latter half of the year. Finding out this information had her truly impressed.

"Wow, Quinn. That's quite incredible. I've heard it's really hard to get in there. So you live on-campus? What's your major? How are your classes? Have you made many friends?"

Quinn looked a little like a deer in headlights, obviously not used to being practically interrogated (Rachel liked to think of it as _aggressively socializing_), but she continued to reply with her trademark poise.

"Yeah, I got in with one of my essays I wrote about sophomore year. I wasn't really expecting to get accepted but I got my letter and went for early decision. My major? It was an easy choice, journalism. I'm at Medill but it hasn't really sunk in yet. And no, I don't live on-campus. I met the girl I'm rooming with in August at Lollapalooza (Rachel had gone as well, she had felt obligated when she heard that Brittany would be dancing for Beyonce) but she's in Kentucky on an internship. The town's really nice though."

Rachel could only smile and nod. Quinn seemed so proud of herself when she spoke about school and where she was. She was a little jealous of the other girl because she seemed to have it all figured out. Rachel had once thought that, seven months ago when she still had a boyfriend and plans to build a career in a totally different city than the one she currently found herself in. Once upon a time, she had wished ill upon Quinn Fabray, but now she saw a woman who had gotten past the mess that had been high school for all of them ( and _her_ mess may have been the biggest) and had changed into a self-sufficient member of society.

It was Quinn's turn to ask a question as she was starting to get a little frazzled from being grilled by the ever-curious brunette.

"So, Rachel Berry, how is that I'm sitting here with you in Chicago when all any of us could hear was "New York" for the past four years? What happened?"

Rachel sighed and looked down, her smile faltering. Quinn noticed that she had become visibly upset and was attempting to shrink away, but she, on the other hand, wasn't having any of it.

"Oh come on, Berry. I shared so now it's your turn. I can't exactly disappear again now that you know where I am or the full wrath that is the New Directions phone tree will be unleashed upon me. Those people are relentless. Now spill."

Rachel blanched. So maybe the old Quinn wasn't _quite_ out of her system. A little bit of manipulative trickery must have lingered there. It was oddly refreshing.

"Well, Quinn, I am sure you are aware of the breakup that occurred between myself and Finn this spring. It prompted me to re-consider my options and I decided that it was better if I achieve my dreams the way so many others have before me. And by that I mean alone in an unfamiliar city. There were six other people who were New York bound (Quinn arched an eyebrow, she must not have been aware), and I didn't want them to get in my way...or vice-versa (she only said it to be fair, because she doubted her talent would hurt any of them, no matter how brightly her star shined). It also unnerved me to remain in the same city as Santana without parental supervision. So here I am living an actress' life in Chicago, although that would imply that I was doing any acting... there hasn't been much of that recently."

She looked up from the napkin that she'd been twisting in her lap to see an emotion gracing Quinn's face, it was unfamiliar. The blonde's normally searing hazel eyes had softened into a look of..._was it pity?_

"I'm uh, sorry about that, Rachel," Quinn said, seemingly unused to offering sympathetic remarks, "It's ermm... a difficult business to break into."

Rachel smiled and nodded again, appreciative of the blonde's words. For once, she didn't feel like talking about herself. She was sort of uncomfortable with the fact that everyone she had talked down to over the years was more successful that her at this point in time. She needed to change the subject.

"So, how do you like Evanston? It's so close but I've never actually managed to get on the train and visit. I hear the Northwestern campus is lovely."

This brought another genuine smile to Quinn's face.

"You've never gone down there? Oh my goodness, the campus is gorgeous. There are old buildings that are just absolutely covered in ivy, and so, so many trees. And seriously, don't even get me started on the Lake. They have like, these rocks running all along the edge of it, and a bunch of the ones on campus are just painted by random people in the middle of the night. My apartment is less than a mile from the middle of campus but on one side is residential and on the other is downtown. It's perfect, although the nightlife kinda sucks. But that's what the train is for."

She was just sitting there gushing like they had been friends forever, launching into an anecdote about a crazy homeless man who always harassed her and her roommate outside of the drugstore, asking them if they were a couple. Rachel soaked up all of this companionship and simply allowed Quinn to talk. She had been lonely these past few months, all of her constant auditioning and trying to make it had not allowed much time for forging friendships. She was glad to have found someone in the area that she already knew, especially since Quinn seemed to have become this genuine person who had changed a lot.

Living alone had allowed Rachel to finally notice some of the faults in her personality that her peers had been attempting to point out to her for years. She could admit that she had changed some things about herself, but nothing as radical as what she saw before her.

The waiter came by with her check, interrupting their conversation and asking if Quinn would like anything to eat. Rachel immediately felt bad, thinking that she had denied Quinn food by immediately initiating conversation. But Quinn kindly shook her head and informed him that she was just checking out the menu when she ran into her old friend. Rachel smiled at the words. She could see them as friends, and it would certainly be nice to have someone to call up on a Saturday night after an audition gone awry. They gathered their things and left the restaurant together.

The rain outside had cleared up and now the two of them were faced with the slightly obnoxious combination of cold and humidity. If she hadn't just been warmed by the tea and the heat in the restaurant, Rachel probably would have felt a chill in her bones. She walked with Quinn to the L stop, the two of them stopping in between the North and Southbound staircases.

Rachel held up her phone. "So, will I have the pleasure of catching up with you some more another day, or are you going to pull the disappearing Quinn act on me?"

Quinn actually laughed out loud at her words, and held up her own phone.

"My number hasn't changed, so I guess I'll just unblock your contact." She held up her hands in mock-defense when she saw Rachel's face "Hey, hey, I blocked everyone. Even Mercedes. Consider it an honor, Berry, and don't abuse the privilege."

Rachel let her expression soften as she joined Quinn in laughter. She understood the other girl's motives, and she knew that she wasn't trying to be rude but just trying to escape for a little while.

"I'll see you around, Quinn." she said as she turned to make her way towards the stairs that read "Southbound to The Loop".

"Later, Berry", Quinn replied with yet another smile on her face as she began to jog up the steps, the sound of her train approaching (Northbound to the Purple Line).

When Rachel reached the top of the stairs she caught a quick flash of a yellow raincoat in a middle car of the quickly departing train, and she almost felt like singing. Resisting the urge to phone up Kurt or Mercedes right away, she kept her promise and sat down on an empty bench.

_Things were looking up_.

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><p><strong>So ends Chapter One. Writing this story so far has been incredibly easy, but I still would appreciate reviews to tell me how people are liking it. The area this story is set in is a very familiar one to me, so hopefully I won't butcher the descriptions of anyone's hometown this time around. <strong>

**Favorite and Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So this one is going to be a two-parter, just because it makes sense. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'll have a longer note at the bottom.

**Diclaimer:** Don't own these characters, I wouldn't know what to do with them if I did.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two (Part One): Pasta Sauce and Mysterious Rooms<strong>

A week later Rachel sat in her apartment, enjoying the lazy feeling that came with the last late Sunday morning of the month. The only audition she had gone to that week had gone relatively well, although she had felt a little frustrated when the piano player had botched her audition song. The weather had finally eased up, and although there was no doubt that November would bring chilly temperatures, the next few days were predicted to be warm and actually quite pleasant. It was something Rachel was thankful for as she hated the cold and was dreading the long Chicago winter that was sure to come.

She had just settled down to read the newspaper's A&E section, a hot mug of organic tea clasped in her hand, when she heard the familiar sound of her phone buzzing with a new text message. She reached for it lazily and unlocked it before glancing at the message that appeared on the screen. She smiled when she saw who the sender was, the contact showing up in her inbox for the first time in months.

"**You free?"** The text from Quinn was ridiculously simple, something that Rachel herself would never send. She preferred informative and well-composed paragraphs that would leave people asking no frivolous questions. She chuckled to herself, thinking that someone who was studying the writing craft should be more detailed, but she couldn't help the smile that spread across her features.

The message was open-ended, giving her the chance for an out, but she didn't even consider declining a potential offer for socializing. It had been weeks since she had really gotten to enjoy the company of others without having to compete with them for roles on-stage. She hit the "reply" button, but just could not decide what to say.

Due to the simplicity of the question, she figured that a long-winded response may actually be a little off-putting and potentially unnecessary (yes, she was _trying_ to change). Satisfied with her logic, she typed out a quick response and didn't even feel the need to pause before sending it out.

"**Of course!" **

**...**So maybe she had abandoned a little of the excessive sentences, but there was no way she would ditch her brilliant enthusiasm altogether. Quinn responded a short while later (after Rachel had worked her way halfway through Arts and Entertainment, drawing stars next to articles she planned on revisiting later) inviting her to take the train down for lunch. Rachel happily agreed and said she'd be there by noon, give or take a few minutes due to the "L" and its sometimes unreliable weekend schedule.

This left her ample time to shower and carefully plan her outfit. It was a habit she had gotten into since beginning to live on her own. After years of being ridiculed for her fashion sense, Rachel had hit the shops as soon as she moved in, occasionally calling Kurt or Tina for a little inspiration or critique. Today, she was in the mood for something that reflected the crisp yet warm autumn weather.

An hour later she stood, showered and dressed, checking her reflection in the mirror. She wore brown chords that hugged her toned legs tightly (she'd amped up her workout from the elliptical to a full-on gym membership after moving), a simple white v-neck, and some red ballet flats. A faux-leather jacket that she had picked up a week before while shopping on Belmont completed her outfit. Liking what she saw, Rachel let her mind wander, wondering why she was choosing her clothes so carefully. It didn't seem like Quinn would slip back into her old attitude from high school and immediately begin to harshly judge her, but she also sort of wanted to show the former-HBIC that she could look good.

When she got on the train at Addison her nerves started to act up and she began to feel jumpy. Switching to the Purple Line at Howard was a strangely calming experience. She had never ridden the train this far north but it was quieter, with more awkward teenagers and working adults and fewer of the insane bums and loud baseball fans (though those people could sometimes be very entertaining) that could be found closer to the Loop. Checking her phone, she noted that she had reached the stop that Quinn had instructed and she stepped off the train.

After walking down a flight of stairs and exiting the (strangely clean) station through the back, Rachel was slightly disoriented. In front of her was another train station and to her right was a large building with a lot of bluish glass windows. She asked a cab driver how to get to the street Quinn had told her to walk down, and he directed her through a sort of alleyway, past a restaurant that seemed to be located right under the Metra station that she had seen after getting off the "L".

Rachel soon found herself in what seemed to be the main Plaza of downtown. She took in the sights around her, noting the aspects of the place that Quinn was now calling home. People of all ages strolled pleasantly in and out of shops in the warm October sun. There was a large movie theater attached to one of her favorite stores (since the makeover) and there were a lot of teenagers and what seemed to be college students hanging out in larger groups. Rachel wondered what it would be like to grow up in a place like this.

Evanston seemed to be like a miniature city when compared to Lima where the only real place to shop had been an outlet mall and the best spot for a date was BreadstiX (which Rachel had generally avoided as it was one of Santana's favorite haunts). Rachel looked down at her phone and saw that the instructions were (thankfully) more detailed now that she'd made it to the correct street.

Heading west, she walked a couple of blocks until she reached a busy road. On her side of the street, stretching for a couple blocks to the North, were old brick apartment buildings with small archways leading to wooden exterior stairs. It was, as Quinn had described, the literal divide between the residential and downtown areas. There was only one building on the other side of the street, a YWCA, the rest of the block and really as far as she could see was covered with large houses and tree-lined parkways. _Definitely nicer than Lima_.

Rachel looked up at the street sign. "Church and Ridge", and how fitting, as the street she had just walked down contained at least one church, and the busy on she was now standing in front of was on what seemed to be the only hill for quite some distance. Walking around to the front of the building on her left, she went into the entrance and pressed the buzzer next to the number she had been texted.

"Come up, I'll leave the door open."

Quinn's voice on the other end sounded a little tense, and Rachel thought she could hear clanging in the background. The sound of the phone clicking off followed by a loud buzz took her out of her daze and she pushed the heavy glass-paned door open and jogged up the stairs. The building had that "old carpet" smell that came with a place that had been lived in for a long time and all of the wooden doorframes, as well as the shaky banister, were covered in scratches from people bumping into them, probably carrying furniture.

Reaching the second floor, Rachel smiled when she saw the door slightly ajar and she walked in, closing it behind her. She could hear a muffled "Hey!" coming from behind what looked to be the kitchen counter and a hand popped up, waving. Rachel set her bag down on the little bench near the door and walked across the open-plan room to the horseshoe-shaped kitchen.

She leaned over the counter and looked down to find the other girl crouched on the floor, rummaging through a cabinet that seemed to be the source of the clanging noise she had heard earlier. Her short blonde hair was tied back under a blue paisley bandana that looked great with the tight red tee that she was wearing.

"Hey there Quinn." Rachel spoke softly, a little laugh in her tone at the look of firm concentration on her face.

"Hey Rach", she said, just before there was a loud succession of clanging and banging and Quinn fell off of the balls of her feet and onto her butt, spewing expletives but wearing a look of defiant victory due to the saucepan clasped in her hand. Rachel clasped a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stop the laughter that threatened to come bubbling out. The normally graceful and composed ex-cheerleader seemed to be at her wit's end in the tiny kitchen.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Laugh all you want, Berry but prepare to have your tastebuds amazed by Quinn and Cait's special pasta sauce."

Rachel furrowed her brow at the unfamiliar name. _Ah, yes, the roommate_. She had never pictured the other girl as one to make random, impulsive life decisions such as moving in with someone she'd only just met. The two of them had shared the same type of apprehensive attitude in high school, but it seemed to be another habit that Quinn had ditched.

"Cait's the other girl that lives here, right?" She tried not to let the apprehension show in her voice, wondering what kind of person would be so awesome that you'd just agree to live with them on a whim.

"Yes, and she's obviously not here at the moment," Rachel did remember something about an internship, "because the apartment would be clean and loud music would no-doubt be playing, but she's pretty cool. Sassy like Mercedes, but shorter. And Italian."

Rachel could hardly fathom how Quinn would manage to co-habituate with someone who contained an ounce of sass, as her old personality would have made the apartment a volatile environment. She decided to ignore it and was thankful that she wouldn't have to meet this new roommate any time soon. The new and seemingly-improved Quinn was enough for her to handle at one time.

"So what's this about a 'Special Pasta Sauce'?" Quinn laughed at that and pressed a finger to her lips while holding up the pan dramatically and placing it onto the small, slightly dirty stove. She then glided over to the refrigerator, pulling out some carrots and other veggies and placing them on a cutting board. She threw open the fridge one more time and pulled out what looked to be a jar of pre-made pasta sauce with a hand-written label on it. Unscrewing the cap she poured it into the pan with a flourish.

"Okay, so it's really Cait's sauce, but I always chop the veggies so she let me add my name. Neither of us can cook to save our lives but she's got one sauce recipe from her grandmother and she made a ton of it and froze it last time she was home so I wouldn't starve until she comes back for Thanksgiving. I eat this same thing probably every other day, but that's college for you."

Rachel smiled at the explanation, slightly happy that she was at least beating Quinn at one thing: cooking. After all, it wasn't like she was just going to let her competitive nature slip away completely.

"Oh, yeah, and it's vegan and stuff, I checked the recipe earlier." Quinn was blushing a little bit at that statement, Rachel noticed. She herself was surprised that the other girl had remembered her strict dietary specifications. She may have constantly mentioned them back at McKinley, but she was pretty sure Quinn had never been listening.

"Well thank you, Quinn. Although I am very appreciative of the measures you took to ensure my comfort in your home, I have actually reduced myself to a simple vegetarian. I found that shopping for my own food while maintaining veganism was quite the expensive endeavor and I was sad about the change, thinking of all the poor dairy cows and all the chickens laying eggs by the masses, but it had to be done."

Quinn looked a little overwhelmed by the sudden lengthy explanation but she nodded and went back to the vegetables that she was chopping.

"That's fine, Rachel. You can, uh, grab a drink from the fridge. There's Lime Jarritos in the door shelf. If you've never had it, it's pretty much the most delicious drink on the planet."

Rachel let out a squeal of excitement. She had enjoyed the "foreign" soda for the first time after buying it at a street festival, and she was pleasantly surprised that Quinn shared her love of the bubbly goodness.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe you like this stuff too! I don't understand how they didn't sell it in Lima. I would have bought it by the case no matter what my Dads said about drinking sugary drinks."

"I'm pretty sure the Lima grocery store didn't even have an international foods aisle. Wait...they did, although I clearly remember Santana bitching to me sophomore year because all it had was ramen noodles, some packaged curries, and fancy tortillas."

Rachel laughed remembering the sad situation that had been grocery shopping back home. The place had been tiny and she always seemed to run into people she knew that refused to talk to her or acknowledge her in public, resulting in some awkward situations. She grabbed two of the tall bottles and twisted the caps off of them both. Quinn pointed to a little dish that held assorted bottle caps and mumbled something about Cait being crazy. Rachel deposited the caps and took a long sip of the soda, smiling at the familiar delicious taste.

She let herself wander out of the kitchen to inspect Quinn's living situation more closely. When she had entered the apartment, the kitchen area had been to her left and the rest of the main living-area had been part of the larger, open room. Directly across from the door was an entrance to a hallway that most-likely held bedrooms and bathrooms. It was a small place but she decided that it fit Quinn perfectly. Standing in the open-plan living and dining room, Rachel let herself take in the décor. The walls were painted (obviously not professionally, but still neatly) bright reds and yellows. The hardwood floors were scratched, giving the place an old-yet-classy feel.

There was one light fixture in the ceiling but the rest of the place was lit by a random assortment of odd lamps. Rachel found one of them to be creepy in a very interesting way. It was in the corner and instead of the classic straight lampstand, it looked like the sculpture of a black figure with a lampshade on its head. The body looked so realistic that she was taken aback when she first noticed it. The furniture was relatively simple, an overstuffed grey couch sat in the center of the sitting-area surrounded by a couple of armchairs.

Rachel noticed that there was a new-looking flat screen television affixed to the wall and wondered for a moment how two college students could afford it. The rest of the wall space was absolutely covered in interesting art or bookshelves. There was a section that seemed to be dedicated to black and white photographs that Rachel considered to be very well-shot, but that was not an area that immediately drew her attention. By far, the most interesting thing hanging on the walls was closest to the door. It wasn't a piece of art (or Rachel assumed so), but an _actual bicycle_.

It hung so that the front wheel was closest to the ceiling and the thing looked like it was being ridden up the doorframe. From her limited knowledge of bikes (Finn had gone on and one about them when he forced her to watch the Tour de France with her one summer), Rachel could tell that it was a fixed-gear road bike. What she found most intriguing about it was that the bike, if it hadn't looked so fully-functional, could really be considered art.

The frame was white and shiny, bearing a fancy Italian name printed in red. When she looked more closely, she saw red highlights all over the place. There was a red seat, red chain (_was_ _it a fixed-gear, what had Finn called it? A fixie?_), and red tires. Even the spongy tape on the handlebars and the cables that ran to the front and back brakes were a happy red color. It was so incredibly "hipster" that Rachel just couldn't help but a giggle a little at the sight of it hanging in Quinn's already eccentric apartment.

"Please tell me _that thing_ is Cait's" She said, laughing and shaking her head.

"What's 'that'?" came Quinn's voice from the kitchen where she was stirring the saucepan, a pot of pasta bubbling away on the other stove burner.

"Oh, nothing, Quinn, just the bicycle that is hanging next to your door. I truly do not understand why you would hang something from your wall when it seems to posses all of its functionality. It looks to be quite the expensive model as well, and I was simply saying that I hope it was Cait's idea to hang up her bike as I wouldn't like to think that you would waste something of that value."

Rachel finished her miniature rant with a huff and looked at Quinn expectantly, waiting for an answer or an excuse. Quinn just laughed and set her stirring spoon down on the cutting board before gliding (it was the only word Rachel could use to describe the way she walked) out into the main room towards the door.

She grabbed the seatpost and the front forks and lifted the thing off of the yellow wall that it hung from what Rachel no recognized as two very sturdy white hooks.

"Yes, Berry, _this_ is mine and no, it isn't a total waste as it obviously detaches from the wall. Freshmen at NU aren't supposed to drive cars and I prefer alternative transportation anyway, so I sold mine when I got here. It works great and I can even take it on the train or attach it to the front of the bus."

Rachel frowned. "I thought you really loved your car, Quinn. A red VW bug if I remember correctly? What did your parents have to say about you selling it?"

"Well, by my parents you mean my mother, and no, Judy could care less. In fact, she was glad when I only bought a bicycle with the money I used. That meant I could use the rest of it as spending money to get settled and she wouldn't have to risk any more of the Fabray fortune than she was already spending. I got _that _(she pointed to the television) as well as a few other things. It was a really convenient deal, actually."

Rachel felt her expression change from a frown to a small smile. It seemed like Quinn really had a lot sorted out, and she was saving the environment by ditching her car, something Rachel strongly approved of.

"I see, Quinn. I'll rest my case. You have proven me totally wrong."

Quinn's face lit up with a wry smile as she lifted the bike back onto the hooks. "Did I really just hear the Rachel Berry apologize to me and admit that she was wrong? Well damn! I guess I'm not the only one who changed since high school! This calls for a celebration on my part."

She ran past Rachel and over to the bookshelf nearest the TV where she stopped, leaned down, and cranked up the stereo. Loud music that Rachel recognized from years of excessive radio plays began to fill the apartment as Quinn danced around, lip-synching to the screeching tones of the lead singer.

_Well I could see  
>You home with me<br>But you were with another mannn YEAH  
>I know we ain't got<br>Much to say  
>Before I let you get awayyyy YEAH<em>

_Be my girl, BE. MY. GIRL.  
>I said "Are you gonna be my girl?"<em>

Quinn collapsed on the couch laughing as the song ended and Rachel couldn't help but smile at the sight of her acting so freely. She had always been the one in the New Directions to break out into impromptu musical performances, her fellow club-members were often more reserved, Quinn especially so. It was great to see her let loose while dancing around her apartment.

"So you like Jet, huh, Quinn? Did you know they sold over four million records when they released 'Get Born'?" Quinn groaned up on hearing the little trivia factoid.

"Rachel, must you always insist on ruining the greatest moments with musical facts that I don't care about? C'mon, just enjoy the fact that that song is going to be a sweet jam forever and ever no matter how many times it's played."

Rachel smiled, despite the verbal abuse. She walked over to the kitchen and squeaked a little bit at the sight of the smoking saucepan, turning off the heat underneath it just in time. Quinn had obviously forgotten that she was cooking, something that Rachel herself never would have done as kitchens are perhaps the most dangerous places, especially in small apartments.

"Shit, Rachel, nice save! Looks like it's done now, though. I know it's not very hostly of me but I was wondering if you could, uh, help me clear some stuff off the table so we can eat?" Rachel watched as Quinn ducked her head down, blushing a little while she pointed to the mess that covered the dining room table.

There were books and papers and mugs and just things in general covering its entire surface. Rachel recognized many literary magazines and popular newspapers as well as a few obscure publications and a catalogue for digital cameras. Buried beneath a jumble of printed out articles was a Macbook with a cable that ran to a printer balanced precariously on the edge of the table. She laughed at how much of a mess had managed to pile up in the otherwise relatively-neat apartment.

"No problem, Quinn. I can see that you have been very busy with your studies, although I personally would suggest a cleaner workspace to increase efficiency." Quinn blushed again, rather furiously. Rachel felt a little bad as she hadn't meant to be so condescending.

"Yeah, sorry Rach. Cait and I get a little crazy when it comes to studying and once she left I didn't really have any use for a dining table. All my crap sort of just piled up over the past couple of months. We only need to move some of the papers so we have enough space for a couple of bowls."

The two of them ended up cleaning off the entire table, despite Quinn's constant reminders that it would become a mess no matter what. Rachel was very insistent that Quinn's level of production would grow if she had an organized place to work. With one side of the table cleaned off completely and the other side organized with neat piles off papers and the printer standing sturdily on the table just behind the latptop, the two young women settled down to eat, their bowls filled to the brim with steaming pasta and homemade sauce.

Rachel found the sauce to be completely delicious and voiced that opinion multiple times. Quinn thanked her shyly, and the two of them carried on a pleasant conversation, with the blonde asking a few questions about how the rest of their friends were doing. Rachel filled her in on all of their endeavors. Quinn was pleasantly surprised by the amount of people that had ended up living in New York, and she laughed when Rachel told her about Kurt's weekly calls to rant about how insane it was living in the same building as Brittany and Santana. Those two girls had been Quinn's closest friends in the club and the brunette was surprised to learn that the other girl had not had a clue about their plans for further education.

She was happy for Artie and Mercedes upon learning that they were both pursuing music and seemed to be pleasantly surprised to hear that Will and Emma Schuester were expecting their first child (Rachel had received the e-mail earlier that week). Rachel was glad that they had both matured enough to have multiple civil conversations with each other without bickering. It was a very enjoyable lunch and she was glad to have a friend in her life again.

After lunch, Rachel once again insisted on helping with the clearing up and they made fast work of the dishes, Quinn washing and Rachel drying as there was no automatic dishwasher in the apartment. After crashing down on the couch, Quinn turned towards Rachel.

"So, I was thinking, it's really nice outside and we wouldn't want to waste the day, would we? So I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and walk down to the lake. The rocks get really warm when they sit in the sun all day and it's a great place to just hang out. What do you say?"

Rachel smiled, appreciating the fact that Quinn also wanted to take advantage of the great weather, although she was really just enjoying hanging out in the apartment. She had only ever really seen the lake from the beaches in Chicago, and she had read online that it was much nicer in the suburbs, particularly around Northwestern.

"That sounds to me like a fabulous idea, Quinn. Although before we leave I was wondering if I might use your restroom?"

Quinn laughed. "Of course, Rach. No need to be so polite about it. First door on the left." She pointed down the small hallway and Rachel stood up and excused herself. Quinn stood up and followed her, but went the opposite way in the hall towards what Rachel assumed was her bedroom. After an interesting experience in the bathroom (the walls were painted bright yellow and every surface was covered in little vinyl toys and other random objects) Rachel went back into the main room and saw no sign of Quinn. Deciding that the other girl was probably in her room, she went back into the hall, this time taking a right.

The door to Quinn's room was at the far end and there was only one other door on that side of the hallway. As Rachel passed it, she caught a strong whiff of what smelled like sulfurous chemicals. It confused her as to why the two girls would have such a strong chemical smell in their otherwise sweetly scented apartment. Her mind was racing, coming up with all sorts of horrible instances in which Quinn and Cait had a closed door and lots of chemicals. _What if they ran a meth lab?_

She was too scared to open the mysterious door and instead continued down the hall and peeked her head into Quinn's bedroom. Quinn was standing with her back to the door, putting what appeared to be contacts into her eyes. The room itself was lovely. The walls were a pale blue and were, like the living room, covered in artwork. There were gig-posters advertising shows by obscure bands that had played at the Metro, the Aragon, or the House of Blues over the past few months. Rachel noticed there were also a lot of black and white photos arranged in a similar style to the ones in the living room.

There was a full-sized bed with a black duvet cover and another random lamp. Quinn must have caught Rachel's reflection in the mirror because she turned around, smiling.

"Ah, Rachel. Now I can actually see you with the contacts in. I'm afraid to say I was a little lazy this morning but I want to be able to see the lovely day without all the fuzziness. Shall we?"

The other girl was smiling and gesturing towards the hall. Rachel had never seen Quinn with her glasses on but she vaguely remembered Lauren Zizes telling them that the popular girl was in fact nearsighted back in junior year. How the girl had found that out, Rachel didn't want to know. At the moment her thoughts were still preoccupied with the closed door and the mysterious smell. A question was spilling from her lips before she could even stop herself.

"Why is there a closed door with a strange smell emanating from behind it in your hallway, Quinn?" She spoke with conviction in her serious tone, but let out a little squeak when she realized how accusatory her words had been. Quinn, on the other hand, was bent at the waist laughing. She looked at Rachel like the small brunette was a stand-up comedian that had just uttered the funniest punch-line on the planet.

"Ra-gasp-Rachel, why on earth do you sound so-hahaha- concerned? Here, let me show you, that room is totally harmless. In fact, it's the coolest thing about this apartment. The bike has nothing on this!" She skipped past a stunned Rachel and out of the room, throwing open the door and beckoning for the stunned girl to follow her. Rachel moved cautiously, but her curiosity got the better of her and she ended up scurrying over to where the slightly taller girl stood in the doorway to the mystery room.

When she was what was behind the door, all her worries slipped away. The walls were painted black and a couple of red lightbulbs hung from the ceiling. There was a complicated-looking sink and a counter that wrapped all the way around the tiny room. A large part of the counter on the "far" (the room was really quite small, a little bigger than a large closet) wall was taken up by a vaguely familiar contraption. The wall with the deep sink was on the left and it had minimal counter-space, but the space was empty. The counter on the wall to the right held three deep pans, and a clothesline of sorts was strung up high above their heads, covered in dirty-looking clothespins. Rachel had seen a room like this before.

"Oh, it's a-"

"Darkroom," Quinn finished, cutting her off, "I told you it was cool. When I moved in Cait and I discovered that we shared a love for darkroom photography. We were sitting around on this super-hot day in August (Rachel remembered how unbearable the weather had been), bored out of our minds, and she was like 'Do we really need two bathrooms?' I had no idea what she was talking about, but then she showed me this thing on someone's blog. They turned their spare bathroom into a darkroom, and we said 'Why not? We're two capable and artsy people and we could have one of those, too.' So, by the beginning of September, we had a darkroom."

Quinn was gushing, very excited to share the story of how she and Cait had spent an entire week working nonstop with one of Cait's guy friends and a plumber from the place a mile down the road to outfit the sink. They had spent the rest of Quinn's car money but it seemed to have been worth it. Rachel was truly impressed. She figured that the two girls had probably taken the majority of the gorgeous photographs that adorned the walls of the apartment, and she marveled at their creativity.

She knew that McKinley had a photography lab, but she hadn't been aware that Quinn was in any of the photo classes. She herself had not even attempted to learn the complicated techniques of the darkroom, no matter how much her Daddy had begged. Her focus was on theater and theater alone. When Rachel thought about it, it made sense that Quinn was interested in photography as a journalism major. The girl seemed to be skilled with both the abstract and the documentary forms of the art from what Rachel had seen on the walls. The photographs each appeared to tell a story, just like how Rachel imagined Quinn told stories with her literary pieces.

"That's...very impressive, Quinn. I must apologize for my earlier concern, but the chemical smell was quite alarming. I hope you understand my confusion."

Quinn laughed again, a laugh that was similar to the one she had let out in her room. It was a musical sound, one that Rachel had been hearing all day but had never heard back in high school. At McKinley, the ex-cheerleader's laugh had always sounded humorless and forced. Now, the new sound brought a small smile to Rachel's face each time she heard it.

"Honestly, Rachel, don't worry about it. And you don't have to explain yourself in such a complicated way! We aren't in high school any more! Fixer smells absolutely awful and Cait and I haven't quite figured out to smell-proof the darkroom. The bathroom didn't have a fan but that would be too loud to run 24/7 anyway. Whatever. How about we get going, the day's 'a' wastin'!"

Rachel nodded in agreement and allowed Quinn to lead her down the hall and towards the front door where they slipped on their shoes. Rachel smiled when she recognized the low-top Converse that they had used frequently in performances over the years. While her pair was sitting in the back of her closet back at her own apartment, Quinn's looked like they had gotten a lot of wear since graduation.

"Nice shoes." She said, shooting the blonde girl a knowing look. Quinn simple stuck her tongue out and grabbed an old-looking film camera from a hook on the side of the door that wasn't occupied by the bicycle.

"C'mon, loser, let's go have fun outside."

_End Part One._

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><p><strong>All right, so there's half of this one. It's not like I've written a cliff-hanger (not much of one, at least) and then left the rest to write later. It's written. Just un-edited and sort of a mess. I'll fix it. <strong>

**Again, thanks so much to those who showed interest in the last chapter, I hope returning readers enjoyed this one. I needed a break from my other fics and this is just so much fun. **

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Criticism (I can hopefully handle it)? Drop a review or PM me, I'll be happy to reply and clear things up or just give a little more information. **

**Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**HELPFUL A/N: **Here's the second part! It includes a lovely walk and a twelve-hundred word explanation on how to use a Canon AE-1 SLR camera, courtesy of Quinn Fabray. If you want to see what the place they went to looks like in real life, add youtube . com (without the spaces) to the beginning of this: **/watch?v=xY8834bpNvM **and get a lovely minute-long view of the pier. Warning: whoever filmed it must have had a case of the shakes because I personally became nauseated after watching it three times. I really hope people continue to enjoy this story.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two (Part Two): Coffee, Tea, and a Walk to the Lake<strong>

_Rachel nodded in agreement and allowed Quinn to lead her down the hall and towards the front door where they slipped on their shoes. Rachel smiled when she recognized the low-top Converse that they had used frequently in performances over the years. While her pair was sitting in the back of her closet back at her own apartment, Quinn's looked like they had gotten a lot of wear since graduation. _

"_Nice shoes." She said, shooting the blonde girl a knowing look. Quinn simple stuck her tongue out and grabbed an old-looking film camera from a hook on the side of the door that wasn't occupied by the bicycle._

"_C'mon, loser, let's go have fun outside."_

Rachel felt the cool breeze as she walked back down the slight hill with Quinn. Quinn had agreed to be her "tour guide" as they headed East towards the lake in the bright afternoon sun. She pointed out the large concrete post-office that was just down the alley. When they reached the first corner, Quinn made them cross the street and walk on the side that held the large black building. The building covered that entire side of the block, and the bottom floor was set deeper than the floors above it, allowing for an overhang that was held up by massive pillars.

Quinn bounded lightly up the two stairs and under the overhang that spanned the whole block. The shiny windows were highly reflective, in fact, one out of every four was actually mirrored. Rachel found this to be totally cool and she proceeded to check herself out in the mirror until Quinn told her that there were probably people working on the other side of the windows that were laughing at her.

She was flushed and embarrassed until she remembered that it was Sunday and the building was probably closed, and proceeded to chase the other girl the rest of the way down the block. Quinn ran fast, laughing maniacally, and jumped down the two stairs at the end of the overhang before waiting for Rachel to catch up as they walked underneath the Metra tracks and came back to the place Rachel had been a few hours earlier, though this time they were standing on the other side of the street.

"So, this is pretty much where everyone goes to the movies, shops for clothes, and eats overpriced food. It's also where all the high school kids hang around, so I generally avoid it. Some of them are cool, just looking to have a good time, but some of them are annoying as hell. It's like they took Jacob Ben Israel and made hundreds of copies that all look different, but with the same level of obnoxious."

Rachel nodded in agreement. She had been stuck in Starbucks with similar teens many times in the city, and had often wondered if she had been that awful back in "downtown Lima". They two of them walked for a few blocks, with Quinn occasionally pointing out a good restaurant or an important building, until they reached a corner at the end of the block that held the giant Public Library.

"To our right, across the street, is the Whole Foods, a.k.a. home of the world's most expensive yet organic and delicious groceries. Anndd, just down that block is the coffee shop slash favorite haunt of pretty much everyone I know around here, so we're going to go there."

Rachel felt her stomach drop a little as Quinn grabbed her hand and pulled her across the one-way street, narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic and a couple of less-than-happy cyclists. They crossed again once they reached the other side, and walked down the block towards the coffee shop. Rachel was still a little shaken from the beeping cars as they entered.

"You ok?" Quinn asked, a look of slight concern crossing her face. Rachel hadn't seen much of that look in the past few years, but she could tell it was genuine. She nodded, mumbling a little about the dangers and illegalities of jaywalking.

"Oh, the street crossing thing? Yeah, sorry about that. Pedestrians tend not to obey traffic laws around here if at all possible. In fact, I'm surprised we didn't get stuck at any of the other red lights around here. It's really easy to ignore them in downtown Evanston because the whole thing is pretty much one-way streets. Honestly it's nothing to worry about."

Rachel nodded again, still unsure if she should totally be okay with Quinn putting her life in danger all of the time. She looked around, realizing they'd entered the shop. It was bustling, even on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. The interior was dark and the walls were adorned with red curtains. A counter was at the end of the shop, a small line snaking around a corner. There were people everywhere at tables and in armchairs, sipping drinks, chatting, and working on computers. There seemed to be a lot of college students around, and Rachel felt a slight pang in her chest when she could not associate herself with them.

It was her, after all, who had decided not to go with Kurt to NYADA. She was the single person responsible for her own decision to not go to college. Well, at least not yet. She still planned to go, but she had decided to put her education on hold for the time being. She could get a degree after she was famous, settled down, married with maybe one kid and at least a couple of Tonys.

Rachel was satisfied with the way she had planned her future, but in that moment, she felt at a little bit of a loss. Here was Quinn, a person who had done everything backwards, living the university life happily in a suburb in the Midwest, tucked away in a little bubble of success. And here she was, Rachel Berry, the girl who had done everything in the correct order. While Quinn had spent her sophomore year pregnant and in distress, Rachel had been doing extracurricular activities and stealing her boyfriend. It should have been Rachel with the stable life at the school of her dreams and a fun, creative roommate.

She may have been slightly jealous of Quinn in that moment, but she knew that it had been the right way for things to turn out. After all that Quinn had gone through, all that she had put up with, it only made sense for her to achieve success. They ordered their respective drinks (Quinn opted for some sort of iced tea while Rachel got a soy latte) and they left the shop, Quinn waving politely at one of the other regulars and Rachel smiling at the friendly barista. Their coffee (and tea) cravings fulfilled, the two young women continued the nice walk to the lake.

As they went, the area grew residential once again, the houses large and gorgeous, some with high walls surrounding them. Rachel looked at each one with interest, wondering what it would be like to grow up in a place like this, in such a large house, in such a nice town, so close to the lake. Quinn noticed her ogling and simply scoffed. Rachel looked over to where the other girl was walking on her right side, the side closest to the street.

"Why did you just do that?" She asked.

"Do what, what did I do?" Quinn replied, looking slightly offended.

"Make that noise. I was simply enjoying the lovely houses in this nice area, and you made a sort of...disapproving noise, like you were disgusted."

"Oh." Quinn said quietly, as if she had just realized what she had been doing. "The houses are really nice, I'm sorry, Rachel. It's just that some of them remind me of my old place. Well, at least the ones with the walls do, they look so pretentious to me at first, and I have to remind myself that the walls probably just used to be to protect from sand damage or flooding. Old habits die hard."

Rachel nodded, suddenly understanding. With all that had happened that day she had almost forgotten the old life that Quinn had lived, the one ruled by Russell Fabray. It was just that Quinn was so different now, so loose. In high school she had been uptight and rude, constantly reminding people that she stood above almost everyone when it came to status and class. Her house had been huge, she drove the perfect BMW (until she replaced it with the Volkswagen, of course), had the nicest pearls, and her mother constantly threw expensive and exclusive parties, none of which the Berry's had ever been invited to.

It seemed like Quinn resented all of this, though. There had been a hint of it at the beginning of senior year, but she had quickly let herself get sucked back into the perfect life of pleasing first Shelby and then Judy. Now, she was almost back where she had been, Rachel could sense a hint of anger when the other girl said "my old place", as if it had been a prison that she had gladly escaped from.

Looking at Quinn, she saw that the blonde had slumped down just a little, walking with her shoulders hunched and her thumb that wasn't holding cup tucked into a loop of her jeans. It was a very un-Quinn stride, and Rachel felt a sudden urge to comfort her. She reached up (not much, but she was still quite a bit shorter than the ex-cheerleader) and touched her elbow.

"If you want my personal opinion, I like your new place quite a bit better. It's more..._you_." She spoke softly, even though there wasn't anyone around save a couple of joggers and the people passing by in cars. Quinn looked over in her direction and smiled, blushing ever-so-slightly. Rachel took it as a sign that all previous conflict was resolved, and she let her arm drop,

The lake had been in sight for quite some time now, its vast blue expanse stretching across the horizon, as far as Rachel could see. It was true; it looked much different here than it did in Chicago. The two young women crossed the last street before the lake. On the other side was a small building with what looked like a little store that was closed for the season and sort of pond large ovular fountain that was still running, a small circular island sat in the far side of it with a singular willow tree inhabiting it. The entire pond was surrounded by stone and there were steps leading down into it.

Quinn pointed to them and told Rachel that there had been a symphony playing there on the Fourth of July, and that the water was totally gross but ducks could often be seen on the little island. There was a bike path near to the street, and a jogging path near to the rocks bordering the lake, running the entire span of the shore, or at least as far as Rachel could see.

They walked a little ways towards the lake, past the small building until they were at what looked like a boat launch with two piers. The pier on the south side was metal and looked old and rusted and very unsafe, as it was thin and bent in some places. Rachel doubted that her entire body could fit on it if she lay horizontally, and she was of pretty small stature. The other pier was much concrete as well as larger and obviously newer, as it was not rusted and was very wide, easily ten to twelve feet across. It went straight for about a hundred yards and then took a sharp right, giving it the shape of an upside-down "L".

Suddenly, Quinn grabbed Rachel's wrist, pulling her along as she ran towards the sturdier of the two piers. Rachel laughed as she struggled to keep up with the more athletic girl. It seemed that years of Cheerios had paid off, as Quinn was quick and well-balanced. Halfway down the larger section of the concrete pier, there was a high metal gate, almost like a fence that was closed and locked. It had a sign that said "Closed for the Season. Do Not Trespass. –City of Evanston Parks and Services." Quinn stopped just in front of it, glancing sideways at Rachel who bore a disappointed look on her face; she had been having a really good time.

"What's wrong, Rach?" She asked, and Rachel was a little confused when she heard something in the other girl's voice that was not genuine concern, but badly-concealed humor.

"It's closed!" she replied, quite upset, "I was looking forward to the view from the end." Rachel's confusion grew even more as Quinn let out a little giggle.

"Oh, Berry, always one for the rules. I'd hoped you would have turned a little more rebellious. Here, hold this." With that, she dropped Rachel's wrist and handed her the camera that had been around her neck, then walked over to the edge of the pier, just in front of the sign. Rachel almost whined at the loss of contact. It had been so nice to just feel another person holding her tightly, as if they were on an adventure together. She directed her attention towards Quinn, who was currently stepping in between the sort of fence that made a barrier between the pier-goers and the lake. Once on the other side, she jumped down and disappeared.

Rachel clapped her hand to her mouth and gasped as Quinn's body vanished from sight. She was panicking, thinking of all of the horrible tragedies that could have befallen the blonde girl. _Why would she jump into the water?_ The weather was warm, but it was nearly November and the temperature of the lake had dropped significantly.

It was only just then that Rachel realized there hadn't been any sort of splash, and that the sound of joyful (familiar yet totally un-familiar) giggles could be heard. Running quickly to the edge, she leaned over on the chains and looked down. Sure enough, there stood Quinn, laughing and smiling up at her from the flat surface of the rock she was standing on. She tried to direct her best "stern" look at the ex-cheerleader, but she couldn't really keep a straight face as the blonde hopped from rock to rock, then reached up and hoisted herself back onto the pier. This time, she was on the other side of the fence.

"You did realize that there were rocks going all the way along the bottom of the pier, didn't you? And seriously, Rach, this is hardly a crime against humanity. I was here last week and I watched a six-year-old and his father do the same thing right in front of a city worker. Nobody cares and climbing on the rocks is fun."

Again, Rachel tried her best to pout, but she had to admit that Quinn was right. The other girl seemed so carefree and adjusted to her environment, a feeling Rachel hadn't quite been able to grasp yet living closer to the city. Sure, this town was smaller, but she could picture Quinn taking Chicago in stride, and not allowing for any awkward adjustment period like the one Rachel currently found herself trapped in.

Rachel looked down at the rocks and gulped. She was going to do this, even if she knew she was hardly as graceful as Quinn, the thought that a six-year-old could handle similar maneuvers was helping calm her just a bit. Remembering that she currently had the camera around her neck, she took it off and passed it around the fence to Quinn, who was doing an excited little dance.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel slipped carefully between the fence and braced her ankles as she jumped the five feet down to the flattest rock she could see. Landing in a crouched position, she straightened up, glad to not have fallen to her death, and began to climb the uneven rocks until she reached one that was tall and on the other side of the fence. She stood in front of it and looked up to see Quinn looming above her with her hand on her hips and looking like she had been sent by a power from above.

The other girl reached down and grabbed her camera from where it hung against her stomach and raised the viewfinder to her eye, focusing carefully. Rachel groaned, not feeling particularly photogenic at the current moment. Quinn simply laughed, a trend that seemed to Rachel to be growing that day.

"I'm going to capture this incredible moment in black and white, and then I'm going to title the piece 'Rachel Berry: Badass Supreme' and then when you're famous I'll sell it to one of your megafans and make a hell of a lot more money than I deserve." Rachel groaned as she heard the unmistakable noises of Quinn taking pictures, and when the blonde finally dropped the camera, she climbed as high and as close to the surface of the pier as she get, then reached out her arms to be helped up.

"Do you really think I'll be famous one day?" she asked as Quinn pulled her up. The other girl used as much force as she could, pulling Rachel until she stood vertically, their bodies standing very close together, noses nearly bumping. Rachel felt a little twist as Quinn took a step back before replying, looking directly into the brunette eyes.

"I don't _think_ you'll be famous one day," Rachel felt shattered, as if she had been lead on, maybe Quinn was the same person she was back in high school maybe this was just all a ruse. _Was she simply playing a prank? Were the Cheerios going to jump out from nowhere? Was everyone else in on it? Where was Santana? Wher_- "I _know_ it, Rachel. There's no doubt in my mind that one day you'll succeed. The auditions may be a little tough right now, but things will pick up and you'll be in huge musicals. You know it, I know it, it's bound to happen eventually, it's always been that way."

Rachel felt a sudden reversal of feelings. It was as if her confidence had been broken into a billion pieces and then carefully restored, all in a matter of moments. She grinned, and, not knowing what how else to react to such a genuine compliment, she wrapped her arms around Quinn and pulled her into a tight hug, ignoring the painful push of the camera's lens against her stomach. She could feel her cheek against Quinn's, and she knew that the other girl was smiling. She remembered back to high school, back to the days when she used to ask people politely or warn them before hugging them. Now, Rachel Berry had confidence.

Quinn drew back but her hand once again found Rachel's wrist, and she pulled them along down the pier. Rachel raced next to her until they reached the far end of the "L" shape where a large yellow pole stood. Quinn let go of Rachel's hand once more, and walked around the pole, ducking under the fence once more and gesturing for her to follow.

They stepped onto the rocks, the ones "stacked" on top were much higher here, extending over the top of the pier. They found one that was mostly flat and sat down, looking out over the shoreline to where the Chicago skyline could be seen faintly in the afternoon haze. Rachel could feel the sun warming her skin and the breeze blowing through her hair as the small lake waves splashed lightly on the massive slabs of stone.

"Hold that pose, right there, don't look at me." Quinn said, and Rachel could hear her fumbling with the camera, the lens cap coming off, silence, and then the click that signaled Quinn documenting the perfect moment. Rachel smiled and turned to her, only to once again hear the telltale sound of her picture being taken. She thought the blonde looked kind of adorable (_What? Since when could Quinn look adorable?_), the wind making the end of her hair fly up from underneath the bandana, the camera seeming attached to her eye.

"You have got to show me how to work that thing, Quinn, or you'll never have any pictured of yourself!" Rachel reached for the camera, playfully pulling it away from Quinn's face. The expression that was revealed was one of mock shock.

"Did I actually just hear Rachel Barbra Berry ask to be taken out of the spotlight? Quick, someone record this moment! Oh, wait, I can!" She laughed out loud as she snapped another shot of Rachel, catching her pouting face just a moment before it snapped into laughter.

"I honestly cannot believe you remembered my middle name, Quinn. Though I was serious, I'd like to know how to work this contraption if you'll teach me."

"Of course, Rachel! It's really not that complicated once you understand all of the parts, I'll show you." She took the camera strap off of her neck and held it in front of her, then pointed to the large, cylindrical part that extended from the front of it. "This here is the lens. It's what helps to put the picture in focus. The most essential part of photography is light. Light enters the camera through the lens and is then focused through a tiny, tiny hole and bounced off of some mirrors until it hits the film. The hole is called the aperture." She looked up at Rachel who was sitting straight up, her hand raised, she was rocking back and forth where she sat.

"Rach, this isn't high school. You can just ask me a question." Rachel felt a little embarrassed by that, but she let it go and asked her question immediately.

"What is so important about the hole, and why does it have to be so small?" Quinn laughed a little at the question, resisting the urge to say "that's what he said", but she answered enthusiastically.

"Well, say a camera had only one size of aperture, that's the hole, and you took a picture of a bright day like this, and of a dark living room. The bright day picture would get 'overexposed', and you would hardly be able to see any detail. The same would go for the dark living room, only it would be 'underexposed' and your picture would turn out mostly grey or black and very dim. Understand?"

Rachel nodded, but she had a few other questions, wanting to know all of the elements behind how the camera worked.

"So, how would I know what my aperture is?" she queried, pointing to the camera.

"Well, there's a whole system worked out for that. Inside of _this_ camera is a light-meter. After I focus on my subject, I press this button down halfway. This is the shutter-release button, and it's the one that takes the picture, but it is also used for the light-meter. You can see the light meter when you look through the viewfinder. Here, try it out." She held the camera up to Rachel who peered through the viewfinder.

Rachel could see the lake out in front of her, and she fumbled her hand blindly on the top until her index finger rested on the smooth button. Holding it halfway down, she saw a little "M" light up red and an arrow point to numbers that she hadn't noticed before. This must have been the light-meter.

"What do the little numbers stand for?" she asked curiously.

"Well," Quinn said, her tone never patronizing, "the numbers are called "f-stops", and they basically tell you what size aperture you need." She took the camera away from Rachel but held it out, pointing again to the lens. "There are multiple rings on here, and one of them is called the "aperture ring". That ring has the f-stops on it, and it is for adjusting the size of the aperture." Rachel noticed that the numbers were the same ones she had seen on the light-meter.

"The aperture of a camera is created by adjusting the diaphragm. The diaphragm works a lot like the iris of your eye, it opens and closes to let certain amount of light in. That's why your pupils dilate."

"Oh, wait, it that the thing from the camera on my iPhone?" Rachel asked excitedly, holding up her phone to Quinn.

"Yes, Rach, I'm glad you made the connection. Most people think "James Bond" when they see that. All right, back to the camera. When there is a lot of light, the aperture needs to be small. This is the complicated part, because the bigger the f-stop, the smaller the aperture. As you could see, the f-stop ranges from a 1.8, the largest aperture, to a 22, the smallest. Well, at least it does on this camera. The thing about these is that ideally, you never want to be totally at either extreme."

Rachel could handle the explanation so far. She had a very good memory so the idea that you wanted reverse numbers depending on light and there were complicated rings and meters and all sorts of other things on this small metal and plastic box was fine with her. But she was still curious.

"Why don't you want to be at either extreme? And how do I stop it?"

"Well, being at one extreme often means that the light-meter is past the f-stop it is showing in either direction, meaning that you photo might be over or under exposed anyway. You can prevent that by adjusting the shutter speed, because that also determines how much light is let in."

"Ohhh... that makes sense now." Rachel had started out not knowing a single thing about this camera, but that aside, she could still tell that Quinn was excellent at explaining things. The soft tone she used and the analogies she made were perfect for Rachel. She was exhibiting an incredible amount of patience, such that the brunette diva was pleasantly surprised.

"Yes, so there are a lot more complicated things, but I can explain those later. Would you like to take a picture now?"

"Of course!" Rachel bounced excitedly, totally ready to show off how well she had paid attention.

"All right there, Rach, just a little patience. I'm going to show you all the steps that go into taking the picture." Rachel nodded, becoming attentive once again. She did not want to disappoint Quinn and she wanted whatever pictures she took to come out perfectly, as she was a perfectionist in every way.

"Okay. The first step is focusing. When you look through the viewfinder, you'll see an image. The image will probably be out of focus. Just twist the large part of the lens, or the "focusing ring", and the image will become clear. There's a horizontal line in the middle of the viewfinder. If the lens is out of focus and you point it at your subject, the subject will not line up on both sides of the line. To focus, you just line up both sides. You could also just look at the rest of the image in the viewfinder and eyeball it, but that's a surefire way to know it's focused. If I know you, Rachel, you want it to be perfect."

Rachel nodded, blushing a little. It was almost as if Quinn had read her mind, as she had just been thinking about perfection.

"Okay, almost there. When your image is in focus, you push down on the shutter release to take the picture. When you take the picture, pull this lever. It's called the "film advance" and it will pull the film inside so that a fresh, unexposed piece is ready for your next shot. The last part is the shutter speed, which can be changed using this dial on the film advance. All you need to know about shutter speed for now is that it can't get slower than one sixtieth of a second when you're holding the camera in your hands. For now, it's at one-thousandth of a second because it is bright out today. And that's all you need to know!"

She passed the camera to Rachel who took it in her hands, suddenly feeling under pressure. She had listened to everything that Quinn had said, but she was still nervous. It was obvious that Quinn had an extensive knowledge of photography from the way she had spoken. She had had no idea that the other girl was even interested in photography, let alone so good at explaining things.

Back in Lima, she had just figured that Quinn used her spare time to come up with new, tortuous insults or evil plots, or whatever it was that popular girls did at her school. She realized that she had misjudged the blonde, and felt a little bit bad, but when she looked up and saw Quinn sitting next to her, smiling with a look of great encouragement, she calmed down.

Rachel lifted the camera to her eye and directed it at Quinn's smiling face. She used one hazel eye as her focusing point, bringing the two halves together and the image into perfect focus. She let out a breath and she saw Quinn laughing, probably at her concentration.

"Don't laugh! Hold still!" She ordered, slightly desperate. Quinn stopped laughing but the sparkle stayed in her eyes, something Rachel took notice of. She pressed down the light meter and saw the arrow point to the number sixteen. Taking the lens away from her eye for a moment, she twisted the dial into place and looked back through the viewfinder. The image was still in perfect focus, so she snapped the shot.

Quinn let out a very uncharacteristic squeal and suddenly wrapped her arms around Rachel.

"You looked like a total pro taking that picture, Rach! I can't wait to see how it will turn out!" She had taken the camera back and was now snapping photos of their shoes as they sat next to each other. Rachel laughed at the way the blonde's attention span seemed to decrease whenever she held a camera, and she sighed and lay back onto the rock, taking in the sound of the shutter opening and closing and a few seagulls squawking as Quinn chased them around on the rocks. She seemed to have perfect balance.

After a little while, Quinn climbed back up to Rachel and tapped her leg, and Rachel propped herself up.

"Ready to go?" the blonde asked, fiddling with her lens cap. Rachel didn't want to leave at all. It was such a nice day and she knew leaving at this point would mean she had to go back to her empty apartment. She was genuinely enjoying Quinn's presence. In fact, it was the best day she had had in ages, all thanks to the ex-cheerleader who had been so kind in letting her in.

"Sure, it's getting a little on the late side anyway, I have to study a script tonight." She was lying just a little bit, as she had already memorized the script days ago, but she did not want Quinn to feel like she was a burden. She could tell the other girl seemed a little exhausted, like she also wasn't used to spending a lot of time with others, even though she had a roommate.

"All right, Rach, I'll walk you back to the train station then." Rachel thought she saw a hint of sadness in the other girl's previously sparkling eyes.

"When will I get to see how my picture turned out?" she asked curiously, hoping it would put a smile back on Quinn's face. It worked, and she saw a little hazel glitter as her question was answered.

"Well, I'll probably reel and develop this roll on my own tonight. And I have a lot of classes this Monday and Tuesday, and a really busy day of errands on Wednesday, but I can print a few of them Wednesday night. You can come over and spend the night if you like, I've got nothing on Thursday, we can have a girl's night or something."

Rachel smiled as brightly as she could. The answer was better than she had ever expected. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that Quinn Fabray would invite her over for a "girl's night", or even that she would take her out and show her this beautiful town.

"Of course, Quinn! I'd love that, actually. I have a few errands on Wednesday as well but I'll be free that evening so you can just call me then." She was gushing and talking quickly, but she didn't even care or try to stop herself.

Quinn just smiled and once again grabbed her wrist, pulling them through the fence and back onto the pier. She didn't let go until they got to the train, and Rachel couldn't have been more content.

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><p><strong>Ah, wasn't that lovely? I hope you guys watched the video because that's a really pretty spot. Although, for anyone who has been to Northwestern, the Lakefill is better. They'll go there eventually. <strong>

**I truly hope that a few of you now have a better understanding of SLR cameras, and I hope our camera experts out there approve of my (Quinn's) explanation. I use an AE-1 from the eighties. What do you guys use?**

**I got fewer reviews on the second chapter. It's to be expected though, although I've never written Faberry so I have no clue of the workings of the shippers out there. I hope people continue to take interest in this little tale.**

**Favorite and Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I''ve been having fun titling these chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviwed, keep it up because I like hearing what everyone thinks and it's sort of obligatory to be a review whore if you post on FFnet. Enjoy!

**Important:** The "F" key on my keyboard is a lil' broken so if you spot a word that would make a lot more sense with one of those in it, I probably didn't slam the stupid key hard enough. I'm a little concerned that I didn't catch all of 'em in the edits. Sorry.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three (Part One) Grocery Day and Pleasant Surprises<strong>

The autumn wind was intense, whistling in Rachel's ears and blowing her hair around like crazy as she pulled the last paper bag out of the trunk of her car. It was Wednesday; grocery day in the Berry household, and Rachel had brought the tradition to Chicago. She didn't like having to use her car but she drew the line at two bags, and this had been an especially extravagant trip to the organic foods store. Rachel looked at the wall clock as she entered her apartment, registering that she had over an hour until she needed to leave for Quinn's. She was bubbling with excitement, of course.

For some reason, the thought of getting to hang out with Quinn and have a girl's night was giving Rachel the jitters. Happy jitters, but jitters nonetheless. She had always sort of wanted to be friends with Quinn when they were in high school. Sure, Quinn Fabray and her Unholy Trinity had tortured Rachel to no end, but the hazel-eyed blonde had always been there for her when she really needed it. And she appreciated that about her. Now that they were sort of both on the same page with no high school social pressure to make them hide their identities, Rachel could tell that she and Quinn were really not that different.

Rachel put thoughts of that evening aside as she finished putting away her fresh groceries in the tiny kitchen and made her way to the table where her laptop sat. Along with the grocery shopping, Skyping Kurt had become a Wednesday tradition for Rachel ever since her move. She looked forward to their long talks every week, even if she hadn't been able to spill all of the details of her life with him as of late. She could already hear the telltale tones of the Skype ringer coming from her computer as she sat down in her comfy chair and grabbed it, putting her feet up on the coffee table. She answered Kurt's call and went immediately into the video chatting mode.

Kurt's face materialized instantly as the pixels sharpened and the cream colored walls of his apartment came into view.

"Kurt!" she exclaimed loudly, as if she was trying to get her voice to travel across the country and not through a tiny speaker in her laptop.

"Rachel!" he replied, equally excited. The two of them may have had rival diva complexes but their bond was strong and unwavering. They had stuck together since the beginning of senior year and Kurt had been crushed when Rachel had explained to him that she wouldn't be joining him at NYADA. Rachel could see a soft glow on his face, but she struggled to hear anything over the music and loud voices that were obviously on his end.

"Are you having a party, Kurt? On a Wednesday afternoon? What have we discussed about this sort of reckless behavior?" She crossed her arms, trying to look as serious as she could. Kurt and Blaine had blossomed into social butterflies that would make even her dads proud. They had thrown quite a few parties at the beginning of their first semesters in college and became somewhat infamous among their peers, at least that's what Kurt had told her. He was extremely proud of his popularity, happy to be accepted after so many years of feeling like an outsider.

Kurt rolled his eyes and flicked his hair brushing off the questions like they were nothing. Rachel gave him her best disapproving stare until he deflated, pretending to look offended at her accusations.

"Well, Rach-" she cringed slightly, unused to hearing someone other than Quinn call her by the pet name. She sort of preferred the way it sounding coming out of the blonde's mouth to the way it sounded coming from anyone else.

"It's not a party. Blaine and I aren't _that_ reckless. Well, at least not anymore." He smiled, looking off into the "distance" as if he had come upon a fond memory from long ago. "Basically what happened was we were all studying, well, sort of. Santana and Blaine were doing some project that was difficult and for smart people and Tina and I were gossiping about costumes (Halloween, of course, had been the day before. Kurt had posted a very strange-looking costume on line, Rachel couldn't decipher it but decided to ask later) and Brittany and Mike were trying to write papers. Long story short, Britt's phone went off playing "Single Ladies", the call was ignored, Tina and I were forced into a performance, and _this_ happened."

Rachel was confused by what "this" meant until Kurt spun his computer around, giving her a full view of the rest of his and Blaine's spacious (for New York) apartment. Brittany, Tina, and Mike were dancing crazily in the kitchen, sliding around on the tiles, and Santana and Blaine (he was the only one sockless, of course. Rachel noticed this kind of thing) were doing something that vaguely resembled the jitterbug on the carpet near a large pile of books. Rachel couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it. They all looked so happy, just dancing crazily like it was high school. But, of course, things had changed since high school.

It seemed to Rachel that she and Quinn were not the only two who had transformed a little since graduation. Tina had cut her hair into a short bob, it looked cute and stylish in Rachel's opinion. Her other half, it seemed, had gained some hair. Mike was sporting a scruffy little beard that Rachel hadn't even known he was capable of growing. She giggled a little because Tina probably hated it but she could tell from the length of the hair on his chin that the girl would never tell him that, waiting for him to realize how silly it looked before he shaved it off to save her the drama.

Back in high school, Tina's stress would have gotten to her and she would have criticized it, resulting in a long, drawn out fight. It seemed that Blaine had also let his curls grow out, though Rachel knew that already. Kurt had been giving her the details on his man every week for months. It seemed that school and books and the city really suited Blaine, and he had even dropped the ridiculous Capri pants (Kurt wore them better anyway) and traded them in for the scruffy student look and a laid-back attitude.

This had worked wonders with his relationship with Kurt as the taller boy was sometimes frustrated by his chipper attitude and constantly positive outlook on life. Kurt swore that it was impossible to practice for somber roles when there was a bright ball of happy sunshine in his midst, something Rachel found silly because she was a bright ball of sunshine herself, but could pick up the sad act at the drop of a hat. Pure talent.

The person who seemed to have changed the most was Santana. Rachel still felt shivers when she thought back to the ways that the Latina had tortured her during her time at McKinley, but seeing the fiery girl in this candid moment made her relax just a little. Santana had swapped the tight skirt and fur vest for a tank top and NYU sweats, her hair back in a messy bun and a pair of black rimmed glasses on her face that Rachel hadn't even realized she needed. It was strange to see someone who was engrained in her memory as being such an angry person acting so...happy. _It must be Brittany_, she figured, moving her gaze to where the tall blonde danced carelessly on the screen.

Rachel was pulled out of her reminiscing as Kurt spun the laptop back around, laughing at something someone yelled in the background and turning his attention to Rachel.

"All right, Kurt. I shall extend my apologies to you for my misjudgment and false assumptions about your social life." She made sure her apology was thorough, but he simply quirked a sassy eyebrow. The move suddenly reminded her of sophomore-year Quinn and she had to repress a giggle, trying to get thoughts of the blonde girl out of her head so as not to reveal her secret.

"Speaking of "social life", Ms. Berry, where is yours?" He asked, sassing her. Rachel found herself at a loss for words, a situation that she did not frequently end up in. She couldn't exactly say that her social life currently revolved around one Quinn Fabray, the girl that they had all given up on looking for months ago, so she just smiled.

"My social life is well intact, Kurt Elizabeth. I've just been busy, that's all."

Kurt, of course, looked offended.

"BUSY?" he exclaimed, waving his arms up in Question. "Rachel that is the kind of thing you use to get out of going to lame parties. Trust me; I do it all the time. You aren't busy, you're alone. You didn't even make a Halloween costume, Rachel, that's like diva sacrilege."

Rachel scoffed. Kurt was being a little harsh, even though he may have just been trying to have a little intervention with her. She couldn't exactly tell him that she'd spent Halloween at what was looking to be her most successful audition yet and she'd arrived home to find a bunch of picture messages from Quinn. One showed an artfully carved pumpkin that resembled a skeleton cat, another was a shot of what looked to be handmade fairy wings.

Quinn had invited her to go to a party with some of her friends that lived in the apartments across the street but she had simply been too exhausted. It turned out that there were two Halloween stores within five blocks of the other girl's house, something that she had taken full advantage of. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She wanted desperately to show Kurt that she was on her feet with at least one stable friendship, but she knew she had to keep Quinn's business to herself. She had promised.

"Look, Kurt. I have friends and you'll meet them. Eventually. But for now I would appreciate it if you could just trust me that I'm fine here."

Kurt nodded solemnly and then called Blaine over to where he sat. Rachel could hear the other boy bounce over and the two of them engaged in a short conversation before Kurt turned back to her.

"All right, Rachel. I understand that you're busy but seeing as it's already November, Thanksgiving is coming up pretty soon. I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to come here and celebrate with all of us. We wanted to have our own because we all feel so grown up and we've got our entire lives to go home for Thanksgiving. What do you think? Reunion slash holiday dinner?"

His perfectly plucked eyebrows were standing up in anticipation and he clasped his hands together. Rachel knew it was Kurt's signature "I'm plotting something" look, but she didn't even want to get into that. Her dads had told her back in September that they were making plans to go on a couples-only cruise during the end of November, so they'd be gone for Thanksgiving. She didn't really have anywhere to go and she really missed her New Directions family. She smiled at the thought of them all together at a table sharing a meal.

"Oh, Kurt! That's a lovely idea. I will definitely fly out that weekend. You guys should invite everyone!"

Kurt nodded enthusiastically and then shouted to the rest of the room. "Who's up for a reunion at Thanksgiving?"

He was met with resounding cheers and it was decided that they'd send out an e-mail to everyone who was still in contact. Rachel winced at that last part. She knew that Quinn had originally intended to leave everyone from high school behind, but they were her family too, and it really wasn't fair that they weren't at least making an effort. She had no idea what Quinn was doing for the holidays this year, but she was fairly certain it didn't involve a meal with Judy in the large, empty house she'd let behind in Lima. Rachel sighed, closing her eyes and imagining their table, Quinn next to her braving a Tofurkey and cracking jokes in her ear. She just wanted them all together.

"All right, then. It's settled Rach. We'll talk travel plans next week then, okay?" Kurt looked kind of impatient to get off the call. Rachel couldn't blame him for wanting to join the party but she felt a little left out. Then she remembered that she was about to go have a perfect night of her own, a thought that immediately cheered her up.

"Sounds good, Kurt" she said, glancing at the clock and seeing that she had an hour to get to Quinn's, "but I have to go now. Same time next week?"

"I'll call you, bye Rach, love ya." He blew her a kiss and then ended the call, and Rachel simply put down her computer and went straight to her closet to find something to wear.

Twenty minutes and a couple of changes later, Rachel left her house in a floral-print sundress and some simple brown lace-up shoes. She decided to drive her car as she was going to spending the night, packing a bag for the next day and placing it in the trunk. She had her favorite car music blasting as she headed north towards Quinn's. The drive took a little less than twenty minutes and Rachel found herself bubbling with excitement when she rounded the corner off of the busy road and pulled into the parking lot behind Quinn's building. She hadn't really spent an entire night out of her own apartment since she had arrived in Illinois and it would be a nice change of routine.

Also, she was really excited to learn more about the photographs. She had done her research this time, of course, and she knew a lot more about darkroom printing that she had over the weekend. It was a fascinating art full of techniques that seemed so clever and obvious at a glance, but must have taken years and years to be discovered.

After a cheer-sounding Quinn buzzed her in, Rachel bounded up the stairs taking them two at a time and relishing in the smell of Quinn's apartment building. It wasn't a particularly fantastic smell, but it gave her the lived-in feeling that came with old neighborhoods like this. Rachel was pretty sure that if she didn't love cities so much, she would live in a town like this.

Quinn was leaning in the doorframe when Rachel got off the stairs, and she seemed to be amused at her fast pace.

"Running from someone, Berry? Should I fight off a bad guy?"

Rachel's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She hadn't been expecting the blonde to be waiting for her, and she had let her excitement be a little obvious. She tried to maintain composure and find a retort, but just ended up sighing and giving in to Quinn's taunts.

"I guess I was just really excited to see you, huh?" she replied, shooting Quinn a little wink as she breezed past her into the open apartment.

If she had turned around, she would have seen the other girl bouncing on her heels as she swung the door shut, a smile on her face and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, but Rachel was too busy re-acquainting herself with the bright colors and quirky design of the space, smiling as she saw the bike in its place on the wall.

When she did finally turn around, Rachel noticed Quinn's outfit for the first time. She was wearing a pair of what seemed to be red Cheerios sweatpants and a baggy white v-neck that was covered in odd stains. She also seemed to have donned a pair of tortoise shell glasses that Rachel knew for a fact served a purpose, since the other girl had revealed her nearsightedness a few days ago. Looking down at her own cute outfit, she suddenly felt way overdressed. Quinn seemed to read her mind and simply pointed at her own chest.

"I sort of neglected to tell you that we'd be dealing with all the gross chemicals tonight. They tend to get messy. Well, I tend to make a mess and if you're stuck in that tiny room with me chances are you'll get that absolutely stunning dress dirty. I'd hate for that to happen." Rachel felt a little surge of pride when Quinn complimented her outfit and was about to suggest she go get her overnight bag from the car (she had forgotten it in her excitement) when the other girl spoke again. "You can just borrow my stuff. Sweats are in the bottom drawer, t-shirts are in the top. Take whatever you want because I've got the best laundry detergent on the planet."

At this point Rachel made the decision that she would much rather wear Quinn's clothes than her own. She wasn't sure why, but she loved the way that Quinn treated her now and she really wanted to smell like Quinn's laundry detergent. Excusing herself, she headed down the hall and past the darkroom to Quinn's room. Again, the pale blue walls called out to her, giving her an immediate sense of calm. It was nice to stare at the pictures on the wall and really get to enjoy them this time.

She was surprised to notice that unlike the ones from the living room, these images were all vaguely familiar. In one Rachel recognized two distinctly feminine and casually intertwined hands, the brown skin contrasting sharply with a paler complexion. It could only have been Santana and Brittany, matching bracelets adorning the wrists. Rachel had always had trouble understand their relationship but this shot seemed to just define the simplicity and ease that came with it (well, at least at this point).

She saw a lot of other photos, some of New York that must have been from their last national competition, some of some places in Lima, some of their friends. When she spotted one of herself she felt a surge of pride as her heart leapt. It was a shot of her on the bleachers during lunch, probably in the late spring when it had been too hot to wear tights or a sweater. She noticed the sun casting interesting shadows around her own body in the crisp black and white image, it was a beautiful shot.

As Rachel admired all of the photographs she began to become curious. She thought it was interesting that Quinn, a girl who apparently wanted nothing more than to escape from her hometown, kept a vast array of photos from high school hanging on the walls in her bedroom. It was a strange concept, but she let it go as she felt flattered and somehow proud that the last thing Quinn saw before she went to sleep were photos of people that cared about her. She guessed that that was part of the reason behind their placement.

Suddenly remembering why she had come into the room in the first place, Rachel approached the dresser that was made of the same dark wood as the bedframe and pulled open the bottom drawer, revealing a large collection of sweats in all colors. It made sense that Quinn had so many sweatshirts and pants because she was probably in every extra-curricular activity on the face of the earth back in high school. All of those clubs and teams made a sweatshirt or a pair of pants, it was like a rite of passage graduate McKinley with at least a couple.

One pair of pants called out to Rachel as she scanned the contents of the drawer. They were black with indistinguishable gold letters going down the side. Pulling them out and letting them unfold in her hands, she smiled at the knowledge that they were in fact the pair she had been looking for. The lettering on the side read "New Directions" in glittering all-caps (her own design, it matched most of their standard competition outfits) and looked like they were worn a lot.

They had gotten these at the last minute before going to New York, a special surprise from the two captains after Rachel had done the books and discovered that they actually had an excess in their budget for the first time ever. She had managed to hold a civil conversation with Finn long enough to O.K. the design and everyone seemed to love them. Rachel put them on the bed before closing the bottom drawer and opening the top one to find a shirt.

When the contents of the drawer were revealed, Rachel began to blush and her breathing became a little more labored. She could now say that she, Rachel Berry, knew exactly how each and every pair of Quinn Fabray's panties looked. Of course, there were v-necks in the drawer similar to the one the blonde had been wearing, but the skimpy little panties sort of won the battle for her attention.

Realizing that she had been staring at them for far too long she grabbed a shirt and shut the drawer, shaking her head violently to try to clear the image of Quinn in only the pair of purple lacey ones that had been on the top. She didn't quite know where that thought had come from, but Rachel had always been confident in her sexuality and was not at all concerned. She simply had a vast imagination. It was what made her so great at everything she did.

Making sure that the door was completely closed, she quickly changed into the more comfortable and casual sweats before hanging her dress over the back of the chair that sat in the corner and slipping out of the room and back to the kitchen where Quinn was standing. The blonde girl had a plastic sheet containing what Rachel guess were the negatives and she was holding it up to one of the brighter lights over the kitchen sink, inspecting it closely.

"I'm all changed and ready to get messy." she said, startling Quinn who leapt and clutched her chest. Rachel laughed at the little display of terror.

"Sorry, zoned out for a moment. You scared the shit out of me, Rach."

Rachel just stuck her tongue out at the other girl, enjoying the way the little nickname sounded coming from Quinn's mouth, so different from the patronizing tone that Kurt had used earlier. Quinn just rolled her eyes and went back to what she had been doing, pushing her glasses up to her forehead and holding the sheet to her face for a closer look.

"Those the negatives from Sunday?" she asked, standing on her tiptoes to rest her head on Quinn's shoulder and look at the tiny, semi-clear images.

"Yup", Quinn replied, "look it's you!" She pointed to a shot of what looked like a human body. The negatives sort of confused Rachel due to the reversed colors, and Quinn noticed the other girl struggling to see the details of the shot.

"Luckily for you, I actually liked this one so much I printed it ahead of time to give you an example."

Rachel perked up with excitement at getting to see another picture of herself, as she had absolutely loved the one she had seen earlier. Quinn grabbed a piece of paper out of the dish-drying rack near the sink and handed it to Rachel, upside-down. Rachel flipped it and when she saw the picture, her heart actually began to flutter.

It was a shot of her taken by Quinn from the rocks below. Her hair had been blown by the wind and was splayed around her. She was caught in the sun's rays, giving her tanned face a sort of glow. The shadows on the rocks and her black jacket, when coupled with her hair, allowed for great contrast (another photo word she had learned in her research). Again, just like the photo she had seen earlier, she had been unaware of the click of the shutter, caught in a completely candid moment.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" Quinn asked in a hushed voice. Rachel blushed, feeling a little shy but very flattered.

"Quinn, it's amazing. The best photo anyone's ever taken of me." She looked up at the other girl, their eyes meeting. She couldn't help but allow her vision to flit between the hazel orbs and the slightly crooked smile that was forming on Quinn's lips. They had a sort of silent conversation with their eyes, each thanking the other for doing her part in making such a great picture possible.

"Want to learn how to make this possible?" the blonde asked, gesturing at the print.

"Of course!" Rachel nodded excitedly, following Quinn down the hall and into the darkroom. Quinn opened the door and waved Rachel in. The room wasn't small to the point of elbow-brushing, but it was a little suffocating.

After doing all of her research Rachel was pretty confident that she knew what everything in the room did to create a final product but she still allowed Quinn to explain it all in detail. She appreciated the effort the other girl put in to make sure that she understood every concept and how it worked. It gave Rachel a feeling of being cared for and from what she could see, it gave Quinn the satisfaction that comes from caring for someone.

Locating the negative that had her picture of Quinn, Rachel slid the strip into the negative carrier and put it into the slot in the enlarger. Quinn turned the lights out and although the safety lights still emitted a soft orangey-red glow she felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of being in a small dark space with the beautiful girl. She'd been having a lot of these thoughts recently, but they didn't seem to bother her.

She enjoyed the fact that she felt a rush whenever she even saw Quinn, simply because it was so nice to be around such a great person after being quite lonely for a long time. Rachel got the sense that Quinn was also lonely with Cait gone. She didn't talk about her roommate all that much, she had only mentioned her once since Rachel had showed up, saying that they'd be doing a little Thanksgiving at their apartment when the mysterious girl got time off for the holiday.

Rachel could feel Quinn's breath on her neck as she focused the image onto the little board that would hold her paper. She was leaning over her shoulder to inspect the image as it was enlarged and cast onto the white surface, still in negative form but slightly easier to comprehend.

She turned to ask Quinn what she thought and found their faces incredibly close together. She could see the other girl blink in the extremely low light and backed away to give her more space to look. Quinn leaned over Rachel's body to check out the photo. She turned a little ring on the enlarger that dimmed the image, working like the aperture on the camera so as to lessen the intensity of the exposure and make it easier to print well. She then picked up a floppy piece of pink plastic, turning out the light on the enlarger and slipping it into a little slot.

"What was that?" Rachel asked, confused as her research had not mentioned anything that looked like that thing.

"It's a contrast filter," Quinn replied, "it just bumps the contrast. I never print without one because the pictures turn out so much better."

Rachel nodded, understanding that that was the best explanation she was going to get from the blonde. She was pretty sure that Quinn had no idea how contrast filters worked, but she was also sure that she was damned good at using them.

Determined to do the rest without Quinn's help, Rachel slid a little strip of photo paper into the holder beneath the enlarger, grabbing a piece of cardboard and setting the little kitchen timer to thirty-five seconds. She turned on the larger and exposed more and more of the strip every five seconds, doing a test to see how much time to make the final exposure.

When the timer dinged, Quinn turned off the light for her and pulled out the strip. Rachel shuffled to now stand behind Quinn and it was her turn to look over the other girl's shoulder as she dropped the strip into a pan of chemicals that were meant to develop the photo.

She let out a little squeal as the image started to show up, one side considerably darker than the other with distinct boxes showing the different times. After a little more than a minute, Quinn moved the strip to the next pan that was filled with diluted vinegar instead of expensive chemicals. This one would stop the development process, leaving the print at the exact darkness. Thirty seconds later, Quinn moved the paper to the final bath. This one was for de-sensitizing the print to light so that it wouldn't turn a funky grey-ish yellow color when they brought it into the hall.

After a minute, Quinn pulled the strip out of the last bath and put it into an empty tray, handing it to Rachel. Rachel was extremely excited but she waited for Quinn to make sure that the paper was put back in its light-proof bag before opening the door and stepping out into the slightly-blinding light of the hallway.

As soon as her eyes adjusted, Rachel looked down at the strip in the tray that say in her hands and she let out another squeal. She could just see Quinn's eyes and a few strands o her bangs poking out from beneath the bandana. The right and left side were too light and too dark respectively, but the square in the middle had the perfect balance of dark, light, and contrast.

"Fifteen seconds." she said to Quinn proudly. Quinn nodded and pushed her back into the room. Rachel felt a pang as she realized the other girl wasn't following her.

"Surprise me", Quinn said, winking. Rachel flashed her a grin before she closed the door and returned to the darkness, determined to make her friend proud.

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><p><strong>I've left you hanging. From a cliff. Sorry about the long wait for the update (that rhymed). I've been super busy and when I'm not busy the exhaustion kicks in and I go straight to sleep. Nothing's getting written very quickly. I enjoy doing these chapters in two parts because it just flows a little better. <strong>

**To answer fey95's question in the reviews; Cait (the roommate) (rhymed again) will probably make an appearance eventually. Her character is kind of ambiguous and will help me to shape the story in the near future. We may learn more about her later. **

**So that's about it for now. Hope you liked this. I may or may not write this weekend if I'm not busy with real-life projects. Please keep up the baller reviews. Shoutouts will be given. Peace.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **

**Updating this now (March 2013), this update will consist of TWO CHAPTERS. Chapters 5 and 6 are being posted at the same time.**

**Since it has been many months, I suggest going back and reading the end of ch. 4 if anyone reading this had seen this story before.**

**I like this story, so drop me a review if you want me to keep writing it. Also all mistakes are my bad.**

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><p>"It looks… all right, I suppose. Well, at least for a beginner like me. I have natural talent."<p>

"What happened in the corner? It looks like something attacked the negative."

"Oh, I may have gotten a little excited and flapped my arms around a bit. Must have gotten in the way of the exposure."

Quinn sighed, grinning at Rachel for being ridiculous and flustered enough to make such a silly mistake. Pushing herself off the couch, she unpinned the print from the makeshift "clothesline" and deposited it into the dish rack next to the clean cereal bowl she'd used that morning.

The apartment had been like this ever since she'd moved in. Odd bits of art were always finding a place to exist in spaces they didn't usually belong, alongside random items and in little corners. It was nothing like the house she'd grown up in (it was better described as a museum), and for that reason, she knew it was everything she needed.

She returned to the couch to find Rachel lazily tracing circles in the worn upholstery, watching her with attentive-yet-relaxed brown orbs. The shorter girl didn't seem bored of their activities, just eager for whatever was coming next. Unfortunately, Quinn was terrible at planning these things, and she knew she'd have to pull something out of her ass to keep the other girl from falling asleep.

"Netflix time?" she asked, plopping back down. "I can pick up veggie pizza from this place three blocks away. Comes in squares when you order but their New York-style slices are as big as my head. It's pretty good and I can be back in less than 15 minutes."

"Quinn. There is never a need to justify pizza. You go ahead, I'll find us something to watch. Direct me to your laptop."

Laughing at the very typical and serious orders that Rachel was giving her, Quinn pointed to the kitchen counter where her Macbook sat. She laughed even more at the brunette's reaction when she dropped her sweatpants in the middle of the room, although it was quickly obvious that she was wearing running shorts underneath them.

Sticking her tongue out at the smaller girl as she slipped on some sandals, the blonde grabbed her coat, wallet and keys and headed for the door.

True to her word, Quinn returned less than fifteen minutes later, clutching a paper bag that was already becoming covered in grease.

"Our faithful gatherer has returned bearing a feast fit for the gods!" she shouted in Rachel's direction.

"More like a feast fit for the average teenager," came her reply, "but it smells absolutely fantastic."

Separating the paper plates and fishing out the napkins that hadn't been entirely soaked in grease, Quinn sat back down on the couch with the carb-filled meal laid out in front of her.

Directing her attention toward the screen on the coffee table, she flinched at the sight of a random, mangled limb.

"What the fuck are you even watching?" she asked, recoiling as she spotted more gore.

"The Walking Dead. Goodness, Quinn, do you not watch any television at all? At first, I started the show to try and wrap my head around how such a foreign cast so successfully pretends to be straight out of Georgia, but now I find I'm really in it for the zombie killing."

Quinn sank further into the couch, shoving her pizza into her mouth as she wondered how it was possible that she no longer found Rachel's tone to be infuriating and condescending, but instead saw it as informative and entertaining.

Rachel smiled, grabbing a plate and a slice for herself, and propping her feet up on Quinn's lap to enjoy her victory in choosing what they were going to watch.

Quinn snorted indignantly and slid the other girls feet away, eyeing the screen with a skeptical look on her face.

Nearly four episodes later, the scene on the couch was very different, as the two girls sat perched on the couch, clutching their knees to their chins as the action got intense. It was Rachel's turn to look at Quinn with a skeptical eye, wondering why the blonde had complained so much earlier when she seemed to be caught up in the action hours later.

It was probably because this was the most awesome show ever, and Rachel herself would be honored to so much as portray a half-decayed zombie for just a moment if it meant getting to see how the action was brought to life. This was the kind of project she wanted to find herself involved in, not some little play in a hole-in-the wall theatre.

Quinn seemed to sense that Rachel's thoughts were drifting, so she leaned forward, pausing the show mid-action and rotating 90 degrees on the couch.

"What's going on?" she asked, prodding at the brunette's leg with her foot. "You seem down, and you know we can talk about anything now."

Rachel sighed, leaning her head back to rest against the back of the cushion. She didn't really want to drop all of her worries on Quinn, what with the stress of getting a job and planning a trip to New York building up as she retreated into her head.

If she had to choose between the two, the job struggles seemed like too much to drop in Quinn's lap at the moment. Quinn had to figure out her own life too, and solving Rachel's biggest problem wasn't even something she needed to be thinking about.

"It's Thanksgiving, she "admitted", unsure of where she was going with this. Kurt and the gang want me to come to this reunion and Thanksgiving dinner type of thing they decided to plan. It's turning into a whole big thing, Brittany was texting me while you were out. They want to have it at Britt and Santana's place, which is apparently pretty big. I just wouldn't want to leave you behind by yourself."

Quinn's face fell into a frown, her lips thinning in thought.

"That's easy," she said, "don't go. We'll go to Whole Foods and get Tofurkey and whatever else Thanksgiving calls for, and then we can go for a run and cook at my house and watch Charlie Brown cartoons. Just stay over here, we can do Black Friday too."

"What am I supposed to tell everyone in New York? I already said it sounded like a great idea."

Quinn sighed, running a hand through her now-messy hair. "Tell them you have an audition Saturday and that it just won't work for you schedule. Anyway, it's late and I got up early this morning. Cait's room is down the hall, all set up for you. We can talk in the morning."

With that, Quinn hopped off the couch, practically scurrying down the hall to her room, and leaving Rachel dumbfounded.

It was going to have to be quite some talk.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

**Here's the second half of the March 2013 update. This one is quite a bit longer, and includes a large jump in time.**

**The POV is switching between Santana, Quinn, and Rachel, so try to keep up.**

**Again, review if you want to and all mistakes are mine.**

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><p>Have you ever woken up with the feeling that some game-changing shit is about to go down? I sure have and let me tell you, it's a real bitch.<p>

I'm not sure if it was the impending knowledge that Berry and the ex-New Directions would be descending upon our crappy studio apartment or just because the seasons were changing and everything seemed to have been going too smoothly, but I woke up Thursday around noon (getting up early is for losers) with an obnoxious inkling. Of course I didn't have much time to think about this sudden revelation because the beautiful woman I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life with pounced on me almost as soon as my eyes opened.

Twenty minutes (and a couple rounds) later the feeling returned in the shower. I should've been more concerned about leaving Britt in the kitchen alone with all of that food and a hot oven, but all I could think was that today would be different from any Thanksgiving yet. In the past most of mine had been predictable. There were the ones when I was little with memories full of loud family and my abuela at the head of the table, screaming abuse. Then there were the past couple years spent at Brittany's with nice clothes and table settings and guests that used proper speech.

This year was going to be different. There would be no extended family, no future in-laws (fingers crossed, Lopez), no mothers to command the kitchen or straighten the table cloth. It was a little daunting and I hated to admit that it was actually partially my fault, so my plan of action was to pretty much deny having any part in the plan whatsoever and be as unhelpful as possible.

This course of action was ruined as soon as I caught the pointed look that Brittany shot me when I wandered out of the bedroom in my sweats and damp hair, desperate for coffee and a lazy day off. It's like she knows exactly what I'm plotting all the time and is there to intercept my devious tendencies. Every time I try to avoid acting like the responsible (semi) adult that I'm supposed to be she just pulls me back in line. It's frustrating as hell but it's one of the things I'm really thankful for.

"San you realize we have to cook for thirteen people today, not to mention cleaning this place and getting the extra chairs from the nice gentleman down the hall? And I almost burned the pie thanks to your stamina."

I wasn't sure whether to be pissed off, offended, or flattered by her words. I could never really get angry at Brittany, especially when she looked so cute in her flour strewn apron and that messy bun. And it didn't help that the compliment/complaint that she'd thrown in had left me blushing. But then I did some mental math and rolled my eyes.

"Twelve, B, we're only cooking for twelve. Q's not going to come. So I guess that means I've got twenty extra minutes to sit around and mentally prepare myself to house the atrocity that is Rachel Berry until I become your kitchen slave. And that 'nice gentleman' is only letting us borrow the chairs and tables because he couldn't take his eyes off my tits for long enough to consider saying no."

_Now_ she looked pissed. I knew that is was probably a combination of, well, everything I had just said. Brittany didn't like laziness _or_ me using my boobs to get us free stuff _or_ me being mean to anyone, _or_, above all, me mentioning the fact that we were probably never going to hear from Quinn Fabray ever again. It was pretty much my only regret that I didn't talk to Quinn before she left us back in June.

If I had just found her then maybe we could've avoided this whole "Quinn disappeared" mess. Unfortunately I was too busy ripping Brittany's clothes off in the second floor bathroom one last time (for old time's sake) and she got away. She'd told us back in winter that she got into Yale and was probably going to go there, but when I called the enrollment office on a whim in September and sweet talked the receptionist there was no record of a Lucy or Quinn Fabray other than in admissions where it said she'd been accepted.

I knew Quinn wasn't a total moron that would throw away her education, but I also didn't know where else she'd planned on going to school. So being the sneaky bitch that I am, I hacked the school records with some tricks I'd learned from my days as Sue Sylvester's faithful captain. I mean honestly, Emma Pillsbury's firewall was an actual shame and took about five seconds to break through.

People don't realize how smart Britts and I can be when it comes to technology stuff, even if B claims she can't turn on a computer. She just likes to fuck with people's heads, really. She actually helped me with a few hard-drive wipings back in the days when I was in the closet (couldn't let the parents find some of my more sensitive downloads).

Anyway, we sat down and found out that Q had actually gotten into more schools than just Yale. She had scholarship offers from NYU and Stanford, but the one that stuck out to us was the full-ride to Northwestern. I knew for a fact that she wasn't going anywhere near New York with all of us around and that California had always frustrated her when we went to cheerleading camp there (something about it seeming like another, stranger planet with more idiots). That left the "Medill School of Journalism" at NU, a little footnote that we had stumbled across in her file.

I honestly had no idea where that school even was but a google search informed Brittany and I that it was in Illinois. My immediate reaction had been to laugh because we'd just gotten word from Porcelain and his elf-minion Eyebrows that Barbra herself had relocated to Chicago. But then I figured that Northwestern was probably nowhere near Chi-city and I really didn't give that much of a shit because Q had ditched us either way.

Brittany and I had sat down and decided that we weren't going to tell anyone. I had originally wanted to call Mercedes right away and stop my homegirl from worrying so much but Brittany had taken the phone from my hands. She said that if either of us ever wanted to disappear that Quinn would totally have our backs and her lips would be sealed like Rachel's legs, so we had to do the same.

It totally sucked but what can you do? I was just glad that at least Quinn was (probably) at school and having a better time than she would have had with us. Brittany brought me out of my flashback with a firm hand on my shoulder.

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><p>Rachel parked the car in the F Lot of the massive Remote (not an overstatement) Parking area and hopped out of the driver's seat. It was about eleven a.m. and they had two hours until their flight but she was always prepared. Quinn was still sitting in the passenger seat looking as pale as she had when Rachel had picked her up a little less than an hour ago.<p>

"Quinn we're in this together and as tough as it's going to be, I'll be next to you the whole time. Worst-case scenario we end up in a hotel and spend the trip sightseeing or catch a show on Broadway, don't worry about it."

This seemed to make the other girl relax and she looked up at Rachel who was standing outside of the open car with their bags next to each other and an expectant look on her face. Rachel tried to look as loose as possible but in reality, she was tense. She'd been lucky enough to have Quinn all to herself for the past month and they'd gotten to know each other again, for real this time. She wasn't sure if she was ready to share her new Quinn with everyone else, but they needed to face reality.

It was the holiday season and therefore time for both of them to return to their families, well, family that they had been actively avoiding for the better part of six months. It was like a rite of passage to return and re-unite with loved ones after spending time apart, and as young adults they needed to participate.

A weight was lifted off of her shoulders when Quinn unbuckled her seatbelt, adjusted the soft rib-knit beanie on her head, and exited the vehicle to grab her army-green canvas duffel from where it sat, lumpy and vintage on the concrete of the parking lot. Rachel watched her hoist the bag over her shoulder and locked the car before grabbing the handle of her black wheeled suitcase and following the other girl to the shuttle bus.

They sat quietly until they arrived at the electric tram station where they made it up the escalator and barely through the closing doors of the tram. When the thing started moving Rachel lost her footing and fell into Quinn who caught her deftly as if she'd been expecting it. Rachel blushed slightly at the tight grip the stressed-looking blonde was holding her in and straightened up, regaining her composure.

"See, Quinn, what would I do without you?"

The other girl just shrugged and looked down at the beat-up PF Flyers she was wearing and Rachel let out a long (yet relatively un-dramatic) sigh. It was going to be a long trip.

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><p>"Santana, we're setting the table for thirteen because this is a family with thirteen members. Do you remember last year when my Pop-Pop died and we still set his place at Christmas anyway? Quinn's not dead but it's the right thing to do. Rachel Berry is not that bad, you said so yourself last weekend when we decided she was staying on our couch. And I don't really have an argument for the man down the hall but maybe you could wear a sweatshirt when you go to pick up the chairs?"<p>

I sighed because she was right and I was being selfish. Everyone else missed Quinn too, and we were a family, despite the lack of blood-relation, so we ate as a family and we made sure everyone had a seat at the table. Brittany was never one for leaving others out, even if others didn't necessarily want to associate (or play) with her.

"Fine. When're the boys and Kurt coming over? I'm not about to throw out my back lifting all those extra chairs and tables from the freakin' basement. And you're sure that Tina has us covered on the wine front? Because once again I am not dealing with all of these people in my home without at least a little something buzzin' in my system."

I was deadly serious about that last bit, I would probably lose the cool composure that I'd gained (Britt was so proud) and rip someone's head off for spilling on the tablecloth that we'd picked out at IKEA a few weeks ago.

There was also no way I was going to carry the two extra tables and the seven chairs (we only had four and Artie didn't need one) all the way up here, even if the elevator decided to work today. Not to mention the fire hazard that the apartment was about to become, because even my (obnoxiously) wealthy parents couldn't afford us a place big enough for these sorts of festivities.

"The boys will be here in an hour and Tina already has the wine, she texted. She's picking up Mercedes and Artie who get in at three because Mike's jeep has room for the chair. Puck, Finn, and Sam are getting in at four and they're taking a cab. Rachel should be here at five because she could only get a later flight, something about last-minute tickets, and that's all of us."

I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Leave it to Brittany to be on top of things when thought I had left absolutely everything to the last minute.

"Oh good, Hobbit's gonna be the last one in."

* * *

><p>Rachel looked down at her phone one last time before turning on airplane mode. The itinerary that Brittany had emailed her the day before, and was now in her Notes application (Quinn had scoffed at her use of the Comic Sans font, calling it a disgrace and a good reason to not go) had their (well, the list said her) flight getting in last after the one that had the boys coming from Ohio. She gulped, remembering that in a few short hours she would have to be cordial and pleasant to Finn. They'd avoided each other since the fights had finally stopped but she still felt tense every time she thought of him.<p>

This time it was Quinn's turn to do the comforting as she seemed to notice Rachel's hand gripping the armrest. She leaned in and whispered patient, calming words into the smaller girl's ear.

"Everyone's going to be there, including me. He'll have no excuse to be rude and if he does remember our Plan B and some cheap tickets that have your name on them."

Her words were perfect and the brunette felt her grip on the armrest relax as the plane began to taxi and Quinn tangled their fingers together, squeezing tightly. Neither of them particularly enjoyed flying, something Rachel remembered from the trips to Nationals with the New Directions. Quinn had shifted restlessly in her seat across the aisle their senior year, her short hair in her face and a blanket tangled around her. Today she seemed eerily calm, but her mood reflected onto Rachel's current state of mind and she closed her eyes, letting herself get some rest before what was sure to be a long evening.

* * *

><p>At this point Brittany looked like she was already sick of me making Berry digs, and she simply crossed her arms and stared me down with her crystal blues in a way that said "I'm thoroughly unimpressed with your whiny and childish behavior". I gave up, knowing that Rachel didn't really deserve them anyway. From what Kurt had told us she was doing all right in Chicago. I actually felt a little bad (and a little surprised I must admit) that she hadn't landed a big role yet, and that she had been deterred from following her dreams by that nasty breakup with Finn.<p>

I hoped that they didn't spend the entire weekend fighting because that would really fuck shit up for the rest of us. I planned on having a nice time and partying it up with everyone, provided that they had all gotten less lame since high school. Even back when I hated all of them I'd never been able to picture us as a group of people that just split up and didn't see each other until the five-year class reunion. We were kind of stuck with each other forever after all the crap we went through together at McKinley.

Of course I hadn't exactly been able to picture Brittany and I hosting Thanksgiving at our apartment in New York, but our place was the biggest (it pays to have doctor parents) and everything had sort of just come together that way.

"Santana if you're going to complain all day I'm going to get Puck and Finn to carry you to the roof and then you'll have to eat dinner alone."

She was joking but it still seemed like a threat, so I snuck a kiss to the corner of her mouth and set to chopping the carrots for the stuffing. I wasn't exactly excited to be cooking but I knew Brittany would go crazy, her newfound patience for recipes only lasting so long. It felt super domestic to be standing here in the kitchen with the love of my life cooking Thanksgiving dinner. I swore I was going soft when I almost teared up after she asked me to "please baste the turkey babe." I mean seriously, _Wanky_, but it was the fucking turkey. How lame.

When Mike and Blaine showed up with a giddy-looking Kurt I gave out a cry of relief and joined the boys (minus Kurt, women belong in the kitchen) in the trip down to the basement storage area where our neighbor had all of his extra furniture. It was actually wooden and classy and somewhat matched our chairs and table so I wasn't too upset that all of it weighed a freakin' ton.

Blaine and I both had a gym membership at the same place and we worked out together all the time, and Mike was just freakishly muscular, so lifting it all wasn't so bad. We joked and swore and sang "The Climb" after the elevator stopped working halfway through and we had to carry things up to the sixth floor on the stairs. I had been kind of glad when the two of them had proposed a night out early into the fall semester. They were two of the more intellectually solid guys in the club and neither of them had ever tried to get in my pants back in high school, so nothing was awkward between us. I'd even been able to convince Blaine to start wearing socks. Sometimes.

* * *

><p>Rachel felt the tip of a finger prodding her cheek as she woke, shifting in the uncomfortable airplane seat. She looked to her right to see Quinn's hazel orbs staring her down, her lip tucked between her teeth as if she was trying to suppress a laugh.<p>

"You looked super snuggly sleeping, Rach, but we're landing in an hour and I knew you didn't want to miss the view out of the window." The blonde giggled, seeming to notice her consonance and she pointed out of the oval-shaped window to where an endless field of clouds was suspended in the air.

Rachel yawned, releasing the pressure in her ears and marveled at the sky outside of the plane. This had to be her favorite part of flying, something she had only ever done a couple of times. She looked down at her tray-table and noticed a cup of what seemed to be hot tea.

"With lemon" Quinn said, reading her mind. "I knew that your throat would probably be a little sore from the daytime nap and I remember the sudden urges you get to burst into song whenever we're in New York. Wouldn't want you sounding anything less than stellar, would we now?" The blonde poked her forehead and went back to whatever novel it was that she was reading. Rachel took a deep sip of her tea and sighed, relishing the thoughtfulness of her friend. Well, best friend, as it seemed that Quinn was quickly filling that role. And she was doing a fantastic job of it.

When they finally did begin to descend, their hands found each other again, as they both squeezed their eyes shut. As much as Rachel wanted to marvel at the city from above, she just couldn't handle the uneasy feeling in her stomach that came with the dips and turns. Their fingers didn't separate until long after the landing gear hit the tarmac and the seatbelt sign had been turned off.

When we finished hauling the last table up the stairs we were greated by familiar voices coming from the kitchen where strong smells of food had started to build. I could hear Tina's shrill laugh along with Mercede's deep chortles. The three of us set down the table unceremoniously in the front entrance and ran into the kitchen. Mercedes was behind the counter stirring something in a saucepan and swatting at a hovering Kurt, and apron covering his pristine outfit. Tina was grating cheese to put over the squash bake. Artie was at the table folding napkins and Brittany was sitting on one of our barstools looking grumpy.

"What's wrong, Britt?" I asked, immediately concerned about her even though our friends were there.

"Damn Satan, is that any way to treat your guests? Nobody ever taught you how to greet a sista?. Babygirl here has been slaving away in this hot kitchen all day and we decided to make her take a break. All that fussing is no good for your perfect skin, honey!"

"Oh Wheezy, how I missed your sass. Thanks for making B here take a break, she'll end up tired and miserable otherwise. It's good to see all of you."

That left all of them stunned, even Mercedes had winced as soon as I'd opened my mouth, expecting some sort of verbal smackdown. I guess none of them had been informed of my attempts to tone it down since graduation, which was especially obvious now that Mercedes was laying the ghetto on thick just for the occasion. Brittany and I had sat down one time after we'd both had a particularly long day of classes and I realized that I hadn't been rude to anyone all day. I had even been courteous to the people in my lecture hall, and Brittany hadn't been nervous at all when meeting new people, introducing herself and not saying random things as a defense mechanism.

We'd both decided that like Blaine and apparently Rachel we had a few things we wanted to change about ourselves. I didn't need the HBIC act any more than Quinn had, and she'd dropped it successfully a year ago. Brittany didn't need to act dumb or innocent to get people to like her, she just had to be her fun, loose self and work more on maturing as a person.

Looking around I saw that all of us had grown up. There were the changes in Kurt and Blaine that we'd all noticed, both of them letting loose a little more. Mike and Tina had sort of reinvented themselves, growing up and looking more mature and independent. Mercedes seemed to have lost a fair amount of weight and Artie had obviously started dressing himself and switched to a smaller, sleeker wheelchair.

We all looked like adults but we still felt like we had back in the days of rehearsals and performances and we started laughing and reminiscing, singing along to the radio that we had cranked up, probably bugging the hell out of our neighbors who were home.

When the doorbell rang again Mike went sprinting to the door as the rest of us laughed and watched the reunion that followed the appearance of the rest of the boys. Sam stood a little straighter and seemed to be smiling more than ever, and Puck had finally let his hair grow out to a normal acceptable length that spanned his entire head. No more childish mohawk. Finn looked a lot like he had back at McKinley, but he seemed more humble, thank God, and he seemed to have ditched those awful polos that accentuated his man-boobs.

I couldn't believe that the likes of Quinn and Berry had fallen for such a lame guy, but then again he was a safe bet and he generally tried to be kind. But there was a sort of glint of sadness in his eyes when he spanned the room and saw that not everyone was there. I wasn't sure who he was missing, but I knew that a huge reason he had actually showed up instead of spending the holiday at Burt and Carol's was seeing Rachel again. Or maybe the chance of seeing Quinn. Not that there was one, none of us trusted her contact information anymore, but he was always a hopeful guy.

The last time I had seen him was in July when we were all helping Mike and Tina pack their stuff into the UHAUL that they were planning on driving. Everyone was still sort of pissed off at him for treating Rachel like shit, and I never particularly liked him, but he seemed upset. I had had no remorse for him at the time. Berry may be obnoxious as hell but if I had to make a decision between her and Finn I'd side with the she-hobbit every time, everyone would, even Quinn.

I remember walking with Quinn one time in the hallway when they were arguing around the time they called it quits. To me it felt like a welcome change from the incessant lip-lock style PDA that was always happening when they were around, but the fighting really seemed to tick Quinn off.

We were standing near my (and Britt's) locker just lurking the way we usually did and watching the drama unfold. I was mentally cheering for Berry and I had originally thought that Q's allegiance lay with Lurch but then I noticed that she kept flinching every time Finn said something particularly idiotic and hurtful. I shrugged it off figuring that Quinn had just wished she could lay into Rachel like that, but looking back I think that she felt for the midget. All of us sort of did.

Sure, Finn was the heroic leader type who gave a couple of epic speeches and invented Lady Music Week but he could also be a total douche. He outed me, messed with Quinn's head, called Brittany an idiot more times than I can count, and screwed Berry over in more ways than one. I was sort of glad for a moment that Rachel wasn't there yet, I think everyone else was too.

Brittany gave me this look that totally said "shit San what have we gotten ourselves in to?" and I just gulped and nodded back, trying to communicate the message of "please help me do damage control when manhands shows up" to her with my eyes. She seemed to understand so I went back to being the gracious hostess that I was.

Being the (large-mouthed) Southern gentleman (not to be confused with the creep down the hall) that he was, Sam helped me set the table. He joked through the entire thing, doing ridiculous impressions and putting the forks on the wrong side of the plate, but we eventually got it all figured out around the same time that Brittany announced dinner time.

At least five of us seemed to all look at our watches simultaneously and then stop talking, because Rachel wasn't there yet. As ridiculous as it seemed, I didn't and I'm sure none of them felt comfortable starting without her. It was a little after five and she was late, something that surprised all of us.

* * *

><p>This was it. This was their moment of truth, the moment when the avoidance they'd both been practicing for months would finally come to an end and all of the silliness would be over. Of course Brittany and Santana's elevator was broken and they'd (well, Quinn had done all the work, bless her) been forced to lug their bags all the way up to the sixth floor. Rachel hoped that the two ex-Cheerios had some great roof access that came along with living on the top floor because otherwise, the trek just wasn't worth it.<p>

She and Quinn were standing in front of the large door, both biting their lips and both looking more nervous than either had seen the other in a long time.

"Are you freaking out as much as I am right now?" Quinn asked, rather unhelpfully. Rachel looked over to where the blonde stood, fidgeting, and realized that the cards were in her hands. She had to maintain her composure for both of their sake's.

"I'm fine, Quinn, and so are you. Now I'm going to knock on the door and then somebody we know is going to answer it, and you and I are going to greet our New Directions family as if nothing had ever happened, just like we planned. Then we're going to sit down and have a lovely meal and crash on Brittany and Santana's couch and I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, and neither are the eleven lovely people on the other side of this door."

This seemed to work well in calming both of them down, and Rachel congratulated herself on her speech-giving abilities before knocking three times on the door.

* * *

><p>When we all heard the three knocks there was an immediate buzz that went around the room, pulling everyone out of their little bubbles of conversation. I beat Brittany to the door by literally half a second and she backed off, whispering in my ear to remind me to be nice. I rolled my eyes and pulled open the door only to be met with a sight I definitely hadn't expected.<p>

The first thing I noticed was that Berry actually looked sort of normal in that dress and those cute Toms, which freaked me out. And then I noticed Quinn.

I'd only opened the door a quarter of the way, and judging by the lack of a collective gasp, nobody else in the apartment had actually seen them yet. Quinn was dressed totally differently than I had ever seen her, but she was rockin' it. Her eyes looked scared, though, like she was telling me to please do this as slowly and as carefully as possible. I nodded, showing her that I understood what I meant, and I leaned in and gave Berry the most incredibly awkward hug in history as I whispered loud enough for both of them to hear.

"All right Berry, game plan. You waltz in like the happy person you are and announce that you've brought a guest, but give me about ten seconds before you do. Q, wipe the pants-shitting look off of your face and crack a smile, not wide and creepy but like, normal for once. Please. Everyone will momentarily freak out and then Britts and I will make sure Quinn gets the floor to explain herself."

Rachel flapped her lips like she had something she wanted to say but she gave up and just nodded. Quinn was already trying to compose a convincing smile like the trooper she was and I nodded pointedly before swinging the door halfway open and ushering Rachel in. I found Brittany's eyes immediately and flashed her the "panic" look we'd practiced over and over in high school. She understood immediately, the brilliant, beautiful girl and mouthed to me "Quinn's here?" I nodded and couldn't help but cheer at her deductive powers of reasoning.

She already seemed to be plotting something in her brain and Berry was halfway through announcing her surprise. When she finished and the door swung open, I half expected the hallway to be empty and vacated of Quinn, but she just stood there looking beautiful and disheveled and sheepish.

The collective gasp was like something out of those daytime-television shows where the "live audience" tells you what emotions to feel. Quinn's smile was maintained but was slowly fading to a look of pain, something reminiscent of the final moments of most of the routines we'd drilled together back on the Cheerios. Wide. Creepy.

Leave it to Rachel Berry to have to be the best at everything, even surprises, because most of the other people in the room really did look like their eyes were going to pop out of their head. Quinn was shifting awkwardly and the whole thing was about to turn into kind of a mess, but then Brittany jumped in and saved the day like the wonderful woman that she is.

"Oh, it's so great that you guys are here. You have like, the most perfect timing ever Rachel, we were just getting the food on the table. Come on everybody, sit down before the Tofurkey gets cold!"

I shot Quinn a look that tried to convey the message of "my woman just saved your ass but the shit-storm ain't over yet" and hurried to my seat at the head of the table. Everyone else followed because thankfully not all that much had changed and they all still listened to me and did whatever I said. That was both refreshing and upsetting, as if their obedience was adding to the already mounting tension in the room.

Quinn and Rachel had stood furthest away from the table, and they were forced to squeeze awkwardly into two seats on the walled-in side of the table. Rachel sat next to Brittany, who was nearest to me at the head and Quinn sat by her side, awkwardly shifting away from Mike, who was staring awkwardly at his napkin.

Leave it to the glee club nerds to have the most awkward reunion centered around a family-based holiday that ever was. In order to break the silence that had covered the room thickly enough to allow for whistles to come from hot dishes, I shuffled the potholders near the turkey and subtly clanged some silverware.

With the attention of the entire table of awkward and suddenly childish people drawn towards me, I cleared my throat and began what was hopefully an ass-kicking speech to start an ass-kicking meal.

"So, friends, nerds, countrymen. We're gathered here today in this near-windowless space to celebrate some good, old, American values. Those being eating and family, as well as butter. We've had our share of shit since we all got to know each other, and even though there's a little weirdness going on today, I propose that we ignore it until the dreadful Black Friday is upon us, and enjoy this meal."

I finished off my improvised call to action with a weird little squeal due to the 24 eyes staring glossily at my face, but my friends seemed to buy it, and the feasting began.

* * *

><p>Quinn sat on the gravel surface with her back to the ledge with the heels of her sneakers dug into the small stones. She hadn't had the courage to raise the cigarette to her lips since she'd lit it over a minute ago, afraid of the wrath that could be incurred from Rachel if she found out the blonde had smoked anything at all.<p>

She sighed as she watched the swirls of smoke float upwards into the loud, New York air, the autumn breeze feeling just a bit sharper than usual today.

Dinner (if that's what you could call a meal eaten so early) had been a strained affair, everyone trying to live up to Santana's command to project normalcy onto a meal that was just as abnormal as possible.

It wasn't her fault, Quinn thought, it was Rachel who had brought her here. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel.

When they first met high school, the blonde couldn't being to imagine listening to a word uttered by the shorter girl, let alone giving in to her request to fly across the country to a hostile room full of people she'd left behind.

A few moments of thought later, she realized that she couldn't blame the other girl; no- the only appropriate thing to do was thank her. It had taken an act of bravery to convince someone as stubborn and unforgiving as herself to get on a plane and do something like this. Rachel had made her venture out of the box she had sealed herself off in at her new school.

For the first time in her life, Quinn had been calm.

Now she watched as the door on the other side of the roof opened up to reveal Santana. The wind whipped her hair around her head, contrasting black swirls against the gray color of the sky. She seemed to be regretting the choice to wear only her large sweater and leggings, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as she approached Quinn.

"Brittany says to come down for dessert and coffee, everyone else has recovered from their food coma. And put out the damn square."

The shaggy-haired blonde rolled her eyes, tossing the cigarette to the gravel and grinding it out with her shoe.

"I'm not hungry for dessert," she lied, pointing to her stomach. "Tofurkey. It fills me right up."

"Bullshit with a side of bullshit, Q. Tofurkey is 60 percent nothing and you know there are maple-bacon donuts for you weirdoes that don't like pie but with eat fat piled on fat. Anyway, B doesn't want that kind of crap in the apartment. She thinks I'm going to turn the freshman 15 into the freshman 57. What can I say? Food is good."

With an affirmative grunt of resignation, Quinn pulled herself up and allowed Santana to link their arms and lead her back to the crowd of people.

"So, what's all this I'm hearing from Babs about this girl Quinn; journalist and hipster extraordinaire?"

….

* * *

><p><strong>2nd Author's Note: Honestly who knows when this will be updated again. Not I.<strong>


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